


Orctober

by SilverWolf57



Series: Orctober 2020 [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Fantasy, Gay, Human, LGBTQ Character, M/M, Multi, Orcs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:33:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 34,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26789020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverWolf57/pseuds/SilverWolf57
Summary: While Patrolling the borders of his tribe, Yatur the orc scout saw something quite out of the ordinary. With a cocky smile and excitement running through his veins, he launches forward into danger.
Series: Orctober 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1953457
Comments: 14
Kudos: 2





	1. Day 1: Autumn

**Author's Note:**

> First in a series of short stories based on prompts given by https://twitter.com/dndentists/status/1304948153448161280?s=19
> 
> On this first story, we will meet Yatur, an orc Merellien gracefully let me use for this tale(you can look at him and other awesome orcs here https://twitter.com/merellien/status/1250067066494861314?s=20). I hope you like it.

Day 1: Autumn

Yatur dashed forward on his worg, the large lupine creature moving gracefully through the tall trees and the treacherous soil of the forest. The cold morning wind buffeted the orc’s light green’s skin while his coat flapped behind him. Sharp dark brown eyes scanned the area like a hawk, searching for anything unusual in the coat of yellow, orange and brown nature wore this time of the year. Without missing a beat, the worg jumped onto a tree stump, his sharp claws digging into the old bark as he ran through it length. The next jump made Yatur laugh as he body broke free from gravity from a few seconds. A grunt of exertion came from the worg as they landed on a rocky hill, and with a few more steps, the pair had a bird’s eye view of the north eastern part of the forest. 

“Good work Ragah. I’m sure you just set a new record.” Yatur said with a deep voice, his hand caressing his precious mount’s neck with tender affection. Ragah only panted in reply while their ears stood proud in alert. 

A carefree smile appeared on the orc’s face, the adrenaline from the run had left him excited and itching for another challenge, another tale to tell between mugs of beer. His free hand made its way into the satchel that hung from Ragah’s saddle and, after a quick search, drew out a stone ring, roughly the size of Yatur’s eyes. Thick green fingers caressed the smooth stone while Yatur cast his gaze over the vast scenery. 

A distant blur caught the orc’s eye, the distance almost too far for even his eyes to make out, but when he focused he saw spots of purple and blue move in hurried movements. Yatur lifted the ring to his left eye, the stone framing the world as he gazed through it. A numbing tingling spread through his fingers as he spoke a few harsh words in an old language. The image through the right changed the next moment, enlarging everything until Yatur could clearly see the hill two hundred meters from him. A few moments were enough for the orc to find the source of the blur and a frown made its way to his face. A bright blue carriage sped through the trees, pulled by a pair of stout horses. The coach relentless harried the horses, his whip flying through the air with desperation and led his carriage straight towards Proudtusk territory. Behind them, closing in on tall and strong horses, were a trio of humans, all lightly armed. The one closest to Yatur shot arrow after arrow towards the carriage, missing the coach for only a hair breadth. 

Yatur cursed under his breath as he returned the ring to his satchel and grabbed the whistle that hung from his neck. The orc scout took a deep breath, bringing the whistle to his lips. The metal reflected the morning light moments before a high pitched cry erupted from the device, a signal to every other scout in the area. His first task done, Yatur took a tight hold of the reins and with a shout, Ragah shot forward like an arrow. The pair ran between the trees like the wind, years of patrolling guiding through the forest with supernatural ease. 

Yatur blew his whistle once more when Ragah began to growl, shouts and screams reaching the orc’s ears moments later. With reinforcements secured, the orc trusted Ragah to guide them towards the source of the excitement. Soon enough, a blur of purple appeared on the edges of his vision, accompanied by the cacophony of noise from the attackers. Yatur drew out his sword, the long piece of metal glinting with deadly intent by his side. The orc scout leaned over his mount as the worg picked up speed, their eyes set on one of the riders. Yatur’s blood burned in his veins, the encroaching approach of battle bringing a cocky smile to his face. His senses sharpened, the form of the riders becoming clearer, more defined. His eyes took in the spear on his target’s arms, the faded purple of their gamberson and the glint of metal from their round helmet. The strong earthy scent of his mount filled his nose, calming down the hurried pounding of his heart. 

The shout of alarm from the riders came too late to save their friend, Ragah’s fangs had pierced their feeble protections like a hot knife cutting through butter. The worg tackled both rider and horse to the ground, a loud whiny ringing through the air and silencing anything else. The orc’s eyes met the riders’. Cold determination met raw fear. With a command from Yatur, Ragha sprang into action, swerving between the trees like a gray blur. The archer was the first to come to his senses, urging his horse forwards while his hand prepared his next shot. The other rider was quick on the uptake and turned around with his spear held high. Scout and invader closed in on each other with grim determination, their bodies tense with power. An arrow grazed Yatur’s ear but the orc kept his attention on the spear coming at him, the metallic tip now pointed towards his precious mount. The orc let out a battlecry as only a couple of meters separated them. Ragah jumped to the side at the last possible moment, the spear hitting only empty air while the scout’s blade sank into flesh. Blood burst from the rider’s shoulder as he fell from his horse. 

The orc scout couldn’t enjoy his victory for long, for an arrow would sink deep into his sword arm. His worg let out a threatening growl as they smelled their orc’s blood, their bloodied fangs bared against the remaining rider. Yatur bit his lips and held onto his saddle with all his might, enduring the spikes of pain that came from his wound with every move. More arrows flew by him, growing ever so close to his flesh with each try. He saw an arrogant smirk appear on the archer’s face as he loaded another arrow, the tip pointed lower than usual. A shout was raising on Yatur’s throat when a black blur jumped from the side and brought down the last rider, a sickening crunch reaching his ears moments later. Proud tusks framed a satisfied smirk, the forest green skin and red hair betraying the identity of the new arrival. The new orc’s worg pointed their bloodied muzzle towards the sky and howled, the sound echoed by six more worgs that burst from the woods and forced the carriage to a stop. Ragah came to a stop in front of the charcoal black worg, their tongue lolling out of their muzzle

The commanding gaze of the orc scout leader fell upon Yatur, equal parts approving and chiding. She exchanged a couple of signals with the group ahead of them before she returned her gaze towards the wounded orc. 

“You’re losing your touch Yatur, maybe you’re getting too old for this.” She said with an amused tone but a touch of concern was clear in her eyes. 

“Maybe next time, I’ll wait for them to cross the border before I ambush them.” Yatur replied without missing a beat, pride clinging to his tone. 

“If you do, that arrow will feel like a lover’s caress compared to what I’ll do to you.” Their worgs huffed at that, seeming to laugh at the banter between their riders. “Go get that looked at by Yzdar, and I better not catch you flirting with them.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am.”


	2. Day 3: Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunting, that had been her whole life and she was proud of it. It brought food to the table, left her deal with thoughts at her own pace and sometimes, sometimes it let her protect her tribe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third in a series of short stories based on prompts given by https://twitter.com/dndentists/status/1304948153448161280?s=19
> 
> This time the focus on the story will be Xaliima, an orc hunter made by the awesome Merellien.(you can look at her and other awesome orcs here https://twitter.com/merellien/status/1250067066494861314?s=20).
> 
> Day 2 of this prompt series can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18870091/chapters/65505838

Xaliima kept close to the ground as she skulked through the forest, her dark green skin and brown furred attire blending with the vegetation around her. With her bow firmly held on one hand, Xilema’s sole brown eye scanned the area. Under her expert eye, broken twigs spoke of a quick get away, indents in the earth whispered about those who had passed and the half eaten remains of animals told the tales of their death. Her mind was quick to weave the strands of information together into a pattern, a picture of what had transpired forming into her mind. Something big and heavy had charged through the forest, scaring all the animals around. Its trail of destruction had spared neither plant nor animal, and the viciousness of it all, sent a shiver down Xaliima’s spine.

Xaliima’s hold on her bow grew tighter, her free gloved hand plucking a trio of arrows from the quiver strapped to her back. Two of the arrows she kept in a tight hold against the bow’s frame, in case she needed more than one shot. The last arrow she nocked on her bow, a precaution that had saved her life in multiple occasions. She took a handful of breaths, steadying her heart and will for the chase that would come. 

The orc hunter followed the trail with single minded drive, her strong legs carrying swiftly across the forests. Her senses grew sharper the further she advanced, her occasionally thoughts filled with images of her tribe and the damage this beast could do to it. She pushed on for hours, the sun pushing past the halfway mark of its descent before she found something. Her body grew still at the sight of a large shadow far away, though Xaliima didn’t know if it was out of fear or caution. The orc hunter quickly took stock of the situation, swallowing back any doubts she had as she focused on the moment, on her quarry. She climbed over a nearby hill with slow tense movements, every sound feeling like a roar to her ears. High above the ground, her eye could finally get a good look at the beast and she did not like what she saw.

At least fifty meters separated her from her target, the beast twice as tall as her and wider than any bear she had ever seen. Skin the color of stone covered most of its body, with large spikes protruding out of its back. Six legs kept it standing, each thick and solid. Their tail, shaped like a boulder, mowed down trees with uncomfortable ease while their head sported a pair of parallel horns on their forehead. All in all, a bad creature to have this close to the tribe. Xaliima’s fingers itched to fire, to put an end to the beast before damage could be done to her friends. But with great effort, she managed to stay still. She knew little about the beast, its habits or weaknesses. And she couldn’t help but wonder if her bow and arrow would be enough to bring it down. She needed more information and she would have to get it the hard way. 

For two whole days Xaliima tracked the beast, keeping a watchful eye on its every move. The first thing she learned, was that she had vastly underestimated its strength, something an unlucky stag was unfortunate to prove. The second thing she learned, was its speed, which usually didn’t go beyond a trot but could increase to a full orcish run to devastating effects. The third and most important thing, she owed to some wolves that had attacked the beast. Their fangs and tactics had proven of little use in most places, except one, the neck. When the scarlet liquid had dripped down the beast’s side, Xaliima saw the chance she would need and her mind started to work on a plan.

Another day passed as the orc hunter prepared her plan, a few well placed arrows keeping the large beast near her. The sun was setting by the time she was done, the last rays of painting the world a deep orange. Thirty meters away from her, the beast paced restlessly, its large tail swinging dangerously behind it. Xaliima checked her bow and arrows one last time, a frown appearing on her face when she saw her half empty quiver. A uncomfortable weight settled on her stomach, doubt scratching at the back of her mind. She shot another look at the creature, their yellowish horn heralding death to all who approached. Xaliima thought of her friends, her family and those travelers she sometimes met in the forest. A fire ignited in her heart, pushing back through the walls of hesitation. 

The orc hunter burst into action, she climbed onto a nearby hill and hid behind the greenery. She raised her bow, an arrow already nocked, and breathed deeply. Her eye locked in on her target, the fold of gray skin calling towards her. The string bit against her glove as she drew it to its full extension, her hands making the final adjustments. Then, she let go and chaos was let loose. A loud bellow rang through the forest, the gray skinned beast trashing its surroundings. Xaliima let loose arrow after arrow against the beast, but most of them missed the wild animal. Round black eyes fell on the orc hunter, her location compromised. The beast roared, the sound shaking her to her very soul. The beast charged forward, its horn primed for gore. Xaliima sprinted away. But she wasn’t fast enough. The beast gained ground with every second. Its furious eyes focused on the fleeing hunter.

Xaliima ducked to the side, the pounding stomps of the beast ringing in her ears. The beast made to correct is charge, thick stumpy legs struggling against its momentum. But it was too late. A thick leg pushed through a tense rope, the release of tension setting Xaliima’s trap into motion. Wooden stakes rose from the ground, their sharp points aimed at the beast’s throat. It was over in seconds, the creatures life snuffed like a candle’s flame. 

Xaliima smiled. Tired but victorious. She could finally go back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you reached this far, thank you for reading and remember to leave your thoughts in the comments.


	3. Day 4: Fast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stolen kisses behind closed doors, hurried caresses before the morning comes. Lovers will always find a way, to promptly their desires sate.
> 
> (NSFW: Gay sex)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fourth in a series of short stories based on prompts given by https://twitter.com/dndentists/status/1304948153448161280?s=19
> 
> Be warned, this particular chapter includes homosexual intercourse between an orc and a human. If that's not your thing, you can skip this one without worry, this is a stand alone story. With that being said, and if you still want to read, enjoy.

The door crashed against the wall with a bang. His strong arms cradled me against his chest. His hands guiding me by my hips while mine caressed his neck. Our lips clashed together, soft skin meeting rough one. His tusks pushing against my cheeks without digging into the skin. I pushed him away gently and a whine left his throat. 

“How long do we have?” I asked between pants, the memory of his lips still dancing on mine. 

“We don’t have long. Ten minutes at best.” he whispered with a husky voice, his brown eyes burning with desire.

“It’s never enough. Maybe we should run away after all.”

A mischiveous glint flashed in his eyes and a grin appeared on his face.“Your brother would kill us. I haven’t even asked for your hand in marriage.” 

A giggle forced its way out of my mouth, images of my twinky brother trying to wrestle my orc running in my mind. 

“You’re right, we would be doomed.” I said with mock fear.

A loud rumble left the green skinned man, the deep sound shaking me to my core. Firm fingers tilted my chin upwards, his lips met mine briefly and sparks ran all over my skin. 

“Cheeky human. Now, get on the bed.” he said with a sultry tone. 

My legs moved like lighting, my heart pounding in my ears, and soon my ass met the hard bed. My boots were thrown to the side, my socks following moments later. My fingers were struggling with the button of my pants when I heard the door slam shut. I looked up, the thick and couldn’t help but gulp. Alone, with only the silvery of the crystals to light the room, my orc figure was like a hero out of the ballads. His scarred skin shone like jade while his proud tusks framed his grin like marble pillars. His leather vest struggled to contain his muscles, giving me only glimpses of what laid beneath. My mouth went dry when thick fingers landed on the top button and with a torturous pace, released it from its prison. A sea of black hair broke free from the leather, highlighting the thick chest beneath. Each button undone, fanned the fire in my loins and sent shivers down my spine. 

The vest fell to the floor, baring his healthy paunch and treasure trail. The orc’s arms rose high in the air. and with a strong grunt, he showed off the power in his muscles with a flex. My hardness throbbed hard in my pants, begging for release. A frustrated moan left my mouth as my fingers struggled with the damned button of my pants. A rumbling chuckle left my lover, his trunk like legs closing the distance between us in seconds. 

“Let me do it.” He whispered in my ear with his deep voice. Rough hands closed around my wrists and guided them towards his chest. It was all I needed to know. 

My fingers groped his chest, massaging the firm muscles with reverence. His body trembled under my hands, a soft hiss escaping his mouth. I lost myself on his admiring his chest, the mounds of his pecs attracting my hands like magnets to metal. My lover was never one to stay still for long though and his hands landed on my hips seconds later. My pants stood no chance against his drive and they soon joined the vest on the floor. A gasp left me when his warm hands caressed my sheltered skin, and he took the chance to join our lips once more. His tongue wrestled against mine. His hands shifted my hips on the bed. My fingers pulled on his nipples. My legs closed behind his back. And our moans were muffled by our kiss. 

There was a hunger to our moves now, a burning need that begged to be sated. Our bodies moved in tandem, months of experience taking over. His groin rubbed against mine, our desires meeting through their clothed prisons. Sparks danced across my eyes. Goosebumps ran down my spine. And I couldn’t get enough of him, his body, his touch, his soul. We parted for breath after an eternity, our breath coming in pants. 

With a trembling hand I pushed him back, conflict shone in his eyes while my own fell on the biggest prize. He grunted his approval seconds later and his last vestiges of clothes fell to the ground. His dick stood proud over his sea of black, his thick earthy musk invading my nose I gently drew back the foreskin of the green pillar, revealing its arrow-shaped rosy crown. Ideas poured out of my mind like an avalanche, the million ways I could bring joy to his flesh but an impatient grunt put that to an end. 

I took his tip inside my mouth, earning an approving moan from the large orc. His bittersweet pre fell on my tongue, followed by the salty taste of his meat. I let myself go wild on his cock, licking, sucking, kissing, rubbing. Every grunt and moan I could get out of him, feeding my own lust. 

I whined when he pushed me back, the taste of his pre still coating my tongue, but he was determined. He lowered me softly onto the bed, his arms supporting me along the way. My bulge was laid bare for him, a wet spot clear to us both under the soft light. His eyes met mine, a silent question hanging in the brown orbs. I gave him a nod and opened my legs wide for him. He pulled down my underwear like one would unwrap a gift. His rough fingers wrapped across my sensitive member and gave it a few strokes. My moans edged him on, his strokes growing faster and more urgent, sending bolts of pleasure through my body. My hands gripped the cheap sheets as a deep seated pressure appeared on the bottom of my navel. 

“Almost there.” I moaned while my hips trusted against his hand. 

My lover gave me a nod, his meaty hand releasing my cock. The bed groaned as he straddled my legs, our cocks laying next to each other. A hiss left my mouth as his green hand closed around our cocks, trapping them together. He flashed me a lecherous smile, before his hips thrusted forward. Sparks danced over my eyes, our cocks rubbing in his tight hold. A moan left us both with his next thrust, and I couldn’t keep my hips from joining the party. Soon had found a pace. My hands flew to his nipples, pinching and twisting them in time with his thrusts, and grunts mixed with his moans. Our voices rose higher, our movements more desperate and erratic, the weeks of unrequited desire and stress were unleashed into our love making. An earthshaking roar left his mouth moments before he painted me with his seed. The show was enough to push me over the edge, my own seed mixing with his over my face and chest. For a moment my body felt like fire and thunder. Each nerve, each muscle overloaded by passion. 

He landed by my side, like a puppet with his strings cut. Bliss and love swimming in his brown orbs. My heart warmed at the sight, adding another layer of pleasure to the bliss he had given me. He drew me towards him, cuddling me against his chest as he whispered sweet promises in my ear. And for a moment, it was all perfect.


	4. Day 5: Cave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Be careful where you wander traveler, for not all places in the world are meant for your kind. Beware what you do in those place, lest you bring doom upon your soul. And above, remember to strike true, for there may be no chance to make do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of horror is always good to have in October, though our protagonist may disagree. This is the fifth story in a series of short stories based on prompts given by https://twitter.com/dndentists/status/1304948153448161280?s=19

“And you’re sure they came here?” asked Mel’er with a rough voice, doubt dripping in her tone.

“Yes, yes. Little Wallace said they had a dare but he fell asleep and missed the time.” answered the short satyr man, annoyance flashing in his eyes.

Mel’er’s brows furrowed and her fists clenched at her side. “And you didn’t think to check on the kids before a day passed?” 

“We--well, no, over here kids play on their own all the time. We adults are busy working most of the day.” the satyr stammered under the seething glare of the blue skinned orc. “And, besides, is not like we didn’t do the same back in the day. Nothing happened to us then.”

“But something clearly happened to them.” 

The satyr didn’t say anything else, worry worming its way into his face for the first time. His hooves clacked against the stone path, his fingers scratching at his worn clothes. Mel’er bit back another comment, the fate of the children weighting heavily on her mind. 

“I’ll head in to take a look. And when I return I expect to see you all gathered.” she announced after a few second, her tone leaving no room to argue. The satyr gave her a quick nod and scampered away, heading towards the town.

Finally alone with her thought, the orc ranger turned her gaze back to the cave. A thick darkness clung to its depths and even on its opening, the light seemed to flee away. A shiver ran down Mel’er’s spine, her instincts screaming danger. A part of her wanted to listen to them, to the old companions that had saved her more than once, but her duty compelled, and so she would do.

She checked her equipment. Her sword’s belt was tight against her hips and her knifes were nestled securely against her legs. She adjusted her dark brown uniform, a thick shirt and some faded trousers, and walked boldly into the cave. 

The air inside the cave was hot and stuffy, despite how often winds would howl past her. Her brown eyes scanned the rocky walls of the caves, searching for any signs of the missing kits, but finding only liveless stone. Mel’er shove her worries to the back of her mind and used one knife to scratch a sign on the wall. She hoped that would be enough. 

The ranger plunged deeper into the cave, the sounds of her footfalls echoing in the rocky chamber. The light grew dimmer as she left behind the entrance, her orcish eyes adjusting to compensate until the world was left in in blurry shapes of green. 

A couple more minutes of marching presented her with her first clue. A small oval shape hidden between some rocks. The orc’s heart jumped to her throat, the worst outcomes jumping into her mind. Her hand flew to the pommel of her sword. Her muscles tensing as she approached the object. Only a meter laid between her and the object, when Mel’er’s sight grew clearer and a frustrated sigh left her mouth. It was an old sack, roughened by age. A quick search turned out some apples, a few candies and some rope. 

Mel’er searched the area once more, and was about to give up, when a wail came from behind some rocks. She pushed them aside with some effort, the wail growing in strength as she worked until it seemed to come from everywhere at once. A narrow passage opened before her eyes, a thin trail of blood running down its length. She peered down the passage, but even her orcish eyes could pick nothing but darkness.

The ground gave way before her feet. Her hands shot to grab the walls but found no purchase in the smooth rock. The orc ranger fell with a scream, the darkness swallowing her whole. The prickling in her neck got stronger as she fell. The air promising certain death in her ears. The ranger pulled out her knife and drove the metal against the stone to arrest her fall. The knife pushed through the wall without resistance, the metal melting before her eyes moments later.

“Give up. You’re ours.” whispered a voice like claws sliding over stone. 

Mel’er turned on the air. She swung her sword in an arc, a blue glow coating the blade. Blue fire flashed before her, consuming a phantasmal shape. A high pitched cachinnation came from all around her. Orbs of azure flame filled her vision and robbed her from warmth. Still, Mel’er fought, pouring her whole self into her blade and cutting at the giant orb of blue flames. 

“Our turn.” said the flames when the ranger had grown tired. The orbs fused together, forming a giant ball of flame. The air grew frigid, chilling the orc to the bone. The boom of thunder shook her body and her sword was stricken from her hand. A flash of blue filled her vision, and Mel’er’s conciousness dove into the darkness.

Mel’er woke up with a scream, memories of the fall still playing in her mind. She had to close her eyes, the painful brightness of the world too much after hours underground. Instead, she explored the world with her other senses. The whistle of the wind and crashing of water reached her ears. The hard earth stood under her hands. The fresh smell of water invaded her nose. After an eternity of doubt, her eyes opened and her heart sunk to her gut. The sun shone high in the sky, just a little past noon. She was lying by a wide river with strong currents: The Talsen. She had waded it on her way to the cave. She turned her eyes northeast, the vague shape of a mountain was clear in the distance, the mountain she should have been in.

Shivers ran on the orc’s skin, her heart pounding in her chest. Her mouth went dry when she saw her sword stuck into the ground half way to the hilt, and the remains of her dagger laying by its side. She heard a moan come from her side. Her body went stiff. The situation too strange for her to process. She jumped for her blade, the metal sheared through the hard earth like a hot knife through butter. She lifted her blade high, poised to strike. And stopped herself just in time. 

By her side was a runt of a satyr, a child. His clothes were in tatteres, showing bits of copper skin and brown furred legs. A bloody bandage was wrapped around his head. The child’s chest rose and fell with even breath, his expression one of peaceful slumber. Mel’er sheathed her sword and knelt by the boy’s side. Her trembling hand touched the kid, hoping it wasn’t an illusion or worse. Her hand met the hardness of muscles and bone, with the typical softness of the young. The orc ranger gulped, her mission hanging upon her shoulders. She gazed once more towards the mountains, where the cursed cave laid.

“The rest are ours.” Whispered the otherworldly voice from the cave before erupting into cackles.

The ranger couldn’t hold back her scream as she fell to the ground, her body trembling all over. Her eyes fell on the young satyr and then on the ominous mountain. She didn’t have to think twice. She picked the young boy in her arms and fled as if she was chased by Evil itself, and perhaps, she was.


	5. Day 6 - Train

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s so nice to finally meet you, we’ve been hearing a lot about those potions of yours. They’re rumored to be the best in the market.” the human lady cut in, a calculating smile on her face. “Of course, my dear Albert and I thought it was such a shame they didn’t reach the eastern lands.”
> 
> Corrie didn’t miss the jab at her prowess but her irritation didn’t show on her face. Instead she stood aside to let the couple pass, waiting until the pair took a seat to continue the negotiations.
> 
> “That’s very unfortunate, you must understand my inventory sells out quickly. Mrs. Pe--”
> 
> “You can call me Alicia.” 
> 
> “Lovely.” Corrie said with forced cheer, her leg itching to kick the pretentious human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sixth in a series of short stories based on prompts given by Dnddentist https://twitter.com/dndentists/status/1304948153448161280?s=19
> 
> This one stars Corrie, another one of Merellien's orc which you can find here https://twitter.com/merellien/status/1250067066494861314?s=20
> 
> Another one for orctober and this one was sucha blast to write. Remember to leave your thoughts in the comments below.

The plains passed before her windows, the endless brown interrupted by patches of green and blue. The clickety-clack of the train muffled by the thick walls of her room. The orc smiled to herself, a green finger playing with a strand of dark brown hair. The train trip had not been her idea but the offer of a luxurious cabin and a good deal had been too much to resist. She let her body sink into the cushy seats, the aches of days of hard work at her store melting away. A soft giggle left the orc’s mouth, the ideas of what she could do with the money dancing around her head. Remodeling, researching, shopping or traveling. All perfectly good ways of spending her hard earned money, and yet she couldn’t pick one.

A soft knock on the door brought her back to the present. Behind the door’s curtain, a pair of shadows waited patiently. One comically taller than the other. A grin decorated the orc lady’s face as she smoothed down her dress, her chance to shine waiting by the door. With grace and poise born out of years of practice, she opened the door. An odd couple stood in front of her. On her left, was a tall minotaur with ochre skin and curly black fur, wearing an elegant gray suit. Gentle brown eyes rested on his bull-like head, a shy smile on his lips. To her right stood a short human woman, with tawny beige skin and flowing light brown hair. Her green bustle dress flattered her figure and made her shine under the light.

“You must be Mr. and Mrs. Perez.” the orc lady said, a charming smile on her face.

“And you, you must be Ms. Rah’tak.” the minotaur stammered, his gaze fixed on the ground.

“You can call me Corrie. We’re going to be business partners soon enough, we may set aside some of the formalities already.” 

“Ah, yes, Ms. Ra-- I mean, Corrie.”

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, we’ve been hearing a lot about those potions of yours. They’re rumored to be the best in the market.” the human lady cut in, a calculating smile on her face. “Of course, my dear Albert and I thought it was such a shame they didn’t reach the eastern lands.”

Corrie didn’t miss the jab at her prowess but her irritation didn’t show on her face. Instead she stood aside to let the couple pass, waiting until the pair took a seat to continue the negotiations.

“That’s very unfortunate, you must understand my inventory sells out quickly. Mrs. Pe--”

“You can call me Alicia.” 

“Lovely.” Corrie said with forced cheer, her leg itching to kick the pretentious human. “Like I was saying Alicia, the quality of my potions requires proper care and handling, which prevents me from increasing my production.” 

Pride shone in Alicia’s shifty eyes, like a eagle that had found prey. “That’s where we come in dear. We’re ready to start with a small investment, to help you expand your operation and perhaps ensure a few of your potions reach the right hands in the eastern lands.”

Her thin fingers produced a small piece of paper from her sleeve, handing it to Corrie with an exaggerated flourish. The orc struggled to maintain her composure, the unnecessary drama from the human already grating on her nerves. A quick glance at the writing froze her on the spot, the amount way over her monthly budget. Corrie hid her surprise behind a courteous smile, unwilling to give up so early in the negotiations.

“And what would you ask in return? Surely, such generous offer surely must be tempered by caution.”

“We would take a small cut from the earning of the potions sent east and we would ask that you use our shipping services for such packages.” Alicia’s eyes twitched minutely and her posture grew stiffer.

“I see, the reputation of your services have indeed reached my fair city. And our mutual friend couldn’t help but sing you praises, still, I do worry about sending my potions that far.” Corrie said, her voice tinged with concern. “You know how roughly packages are treated on the way and if any of the vials got broken, well, that may spoil the whole batch.”

“Albert, dear, could you show her your invention. My dear Albert is always busy thinking on how to improve our services, and his sharp mind often comes up with little trinkets for our clients’ sake.”

The minotaur moved for the first time since he took a seat, his ears never growing still. With a excited nod, he introduced a large hand into his tight suit and after some struggle produced a strange piece. It was shaped like a square and its cream surface looked like clouds.

“This, this here is a new material I made at the shop. I had to combined wool from Star Sheep and Red Sand, it expands under heat and becomes quite soft. It is also good at, at absorbing liquids. So, your bottles would be safe on the way.” Albert said, presenting the piece the material for the orc to inspect.

With some apprehension, Corrie touched the cream piece. The orc was awestruck at how elastic the material was, even when she pinched it hard it would return to its original shape with no evidence of what had happened.

“Marvelous, it is really soft and cushy. Though, I imagine it is also expensive, red sand isn’t found on these lands.” 

Albert’s ears splayed against his head, his nose producing a couple of bashful huffs. 

“It’s true it wasn’t found on these lands, but, three months ago we, we found some in some abandoned iron mines, enough to last, last a century or two.”

“So, that ensures my bottles reach your warehouses safely. But I don’t see why you wanted to meet me on this train. It is very lovely and comfortable, but why meet here at all?” 

“For privacy of course dear, and to see if you’d be the ideal lady a special project of ours. Albert.” Alicia said with authority, a thin smile decorating her face.

The minotaur nodded at his wife and leaned forward, his deep voice lowering to only a whisper. “The formula for this material is still inefficient, we lose a lot of material with every batch. We heard about your skills in alchemy, and had a few potions of yours tested before we met.”

“And you believe I’m the right one for the job?” Corrie said, doubting what help she could be when her specialty was in the area of potions.

“Ah,no, we don’t believe. We know. This piece we made with the help of one of your potions, it’s been the best batch yet. If, if we worked together then--”

“It would be perfected.” Corrie interrupted, the pieces finally falling into place in her head. “ Yes, I see. You’re asking for quite a lot for someone who you just met.”

“My dear Albert may not be the best when it comes to talking, but he has never let me down when it comes to judging character. He believes you’re the best one for the job and I only work with the best.”

“I will need to consult my lawyer but, I see a bright future ahead of us.”


	6. Day 7 - Royal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Be careful with the deals you make and the prices you swear to pay, for when it comes to Demon Lords and their ilk, escape may not come to be. That's a lesson our good king Juh'ra learned much too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with this one we reach day seven, and the last story for this batch. This one is also part of a series of short stories based on prompts given by Dnddentist https://twitter.com/dndentists/status/1304948153448161280?s=19
> 
> This one grew to be darker than I first intended it to be, but I enjoyed writing perhaps a bit more than I should. Remember to always read your contracts carefully.

Large obsidian doors stood in front of Juh’ra, imposing, smooth and too heavy for even the orc to open. Or they would be, had he not been invited. Juh’ra swallowed back his apprehension and placed a dark green hand upon the smooth surface. A desperate wail tore through the sepulchral silence of the hallway, sending shivers down the orc’s back before the doors opened on their own. The ceiling ignited with dancing blue flames that illuminated the wide throne room with their ghostly glow. Juh’ra bit the inside of his lips when his eyes fell on at the far end of the room. There, a throne of bones rested upon a dais and upon it sat a sinister creature, easily twice as big as the orc.

Juh’ra couldn’t hold back a shiver when the piercing scarlet eyes fell on him. None of the orc’s defenses could protect him from that unyielding gaze. His armor was like paper, his amulets were mere trifles and his years of training nothing but a fairy tail. And so, his soul was exposed to the Demon Lord, for them to judge and condemn. The orc’s heart plunged to his stomach when a wolfish grin appeared on the demon’s face, their sharp fangs in full display. 

“So you’ve come at last Juh’ra,King of Tar’dok. Have you finally run out of excuses to postpone this meeting? Have all your lovers been sated? All your offsprings been seen to? Did you tour all tour lands and saw to their wellbeing?” The sinister form said with dark glee. 

With a wave of a clawed hand, the orc king fell to his knees, the threads of compulsion cut from his body. Dark green eyes met scarlet ones, fear and confidence clashing across the room. The orc king touched the cold stone floor with his head, the phantom touch of the demon’s still fresh in his mind.

“Yes, my lord Kalam.” the orc king replied with a trembling voice, without an ounce of pride. “I have come to fulfill our bargain.”

The horned wolf rose from his throne, his hulking form making the ground shake with each step. Gaudy purple robes covered his unnatural silver fur, while a crown of obsidian and rubies rested upon his unholy brow.

“Did you find it all to your satisfaction? Was your kingdom grand enough? Were your harvests bountiful? Did all your enemies die helplessly under your blades?” Juh’ra fingers scratched the floor, his stomach burning with nerves.

“Yes, my lord, it was all as you said it would be.”

“I see. Tell me, did you not find countless treasures in your mines? Did you not prosper while others were struck by plague and misfortune? Did you not have many sons and daughters, both legitimate and not?”

The orc king shook in place as each word sunk like a needle into his heart. “Yes, my lord. I did.”

“And finally, was your reign not a thing of legend? Did you not live seven times as long as any of your peers? Are you not considered a great king, even by your enemies? Did your plans not succeed no matter how unlikely they were or how many opposed you in your court? And did you not see wonders the like no other mortal ever has?”

“Yes, my lord. You granted me all those things.”

The lupine demon came to a stop before the prostrated orc, his lips twisted in a devilish grin. Lord Kalam extended on clawed hand and from the tip of his nails, dark red smoke fell upon the orc. Like an twisted ritual, the smoke bathed the orcish king who could do naught but cough. The demon lord moved his hand as if he was picking up a cup of wine from a table, his claws glowing red with power. The effects were immediate. The smoke solidified around the orc’s neck, forming bloody red binds around the orc’s neck and hand. Juhr’a could only gasp in surprise was lifted into the air and his eyes were forced to stare into ancient scarlet pools.

“Good, Juh’ra, good. Do have you no regrets this time? Any complains about my services?” 

Juh’ra racked his mind to find a way out, conjuring lies and plots to save his life but they all faded like smoke as soon as he thought then. His tongue was the next to betray him, thwarting any attempts at delay.

“No, lord Kalam. I have no regrets. Your part of the deal is done.” Fire burst from the orc’s stomach, burning away his clothes to reveal a twisted black brand. Kalam smiled when the brand shifted colors from black to gray and then to a red as deep as his own eyes. 

“Yes, my part is done and yours has just begun. After so many years, so many gifts given, you’re finally mine Juh’ra.” The demon’s eyes glowed like twin suns while a clawed finger pressed against the orc’s brand. “Welcome, to your new and final home.”


	7. Day 8 - Toy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes creation is necessary to heal our wounds. Sometimes in little wonders we can find ourselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first of the second batch of my Orctober prompts. This one is also part of a series of short stories based on prompts given by Dnddentist
> 
> I hope you enjoy this one too, let me know what you think in the comments below.

My knife cut through the wood one final time and the last wood chips fell to the floor. I blew the piece of wood in my hand and scattered the light brown sawdust on its surface through the air. Gently, I placed the round piece with its sisters on the table and took a moment to admire the fruit of hours of work. My black furred fingers caressed the each piece softly, the roughness of the wood under my skin refreshing the memories of their making while my lips curved in a soft smile. It had all started with a simple remark from my husband as we had dinner, a single mention of a niece's birthday that was approaching, followed by a frown that darkened his tusked face. That single gesture, an old companion by now, had been enough to betray the storm in my orc's mind. That was all I needed to get into action.

Days of discreet questions told me what his niece liked. A couple of weeks of planning made sure I could deliver. By the time my carving knife first touched wood, only a month remained for her birthday and every day went out faster than the last. It had felt nice to be busy again, to fulfill a purpose, to forget about the impending march of death. There were no urgent calls to attend a last confession, no emptiness in my heart mourning old friends and no pitying looks sinking on my back. For a whole month, there had only been me, my tools and the wood from dawn until dusk.

It had been surreal to bring out my old carving tools, to clean then after so many months gathering dust and rust. It was like the first sunny day after a long rain season. Tears fell down my muzzle the first time I opened the old chest and sobs rocked my bodies. A flood of emotions tore through me, the dam of unprocessed emotions finally broken. Loss, gratitude, pain, love, happiness and sadness clashed in my heart, the faces of all the lost friends flashing through my eyes while my nails dug into the hard wood of the table. I collapsed to the floor next, too exhausted to feel, let alone think. That's how my husband found me hours later, a mess of mated fur and sweat. He gently picked me up, his smaller frame struggling to hold mine, and took me out of the somber workshop. He helped me bathe, he made sure I ate and then, he seduced me into sleep with soothing words and sweet promises. It was thanks to him that the next day was easier. He watched over me as I fumbled through my day. His baritone voice kept me away from my dark thoughts, living the moments as they came. His sharp eyes came to my aid when we cleaned the tools and his soft hands steadied mines when we sharpened them.

My first cuts on the wood were tentative, my throat tightened with fear and worry, my muscles too tense. It all led to a big disaster, the whole block was rendered useless but I took it in stride. I had planned for a few failure, aware that my skills had grown rusty. With every cut, every touch and every failure, the knowledge started to come back, first like a small stream, the like a river. Soon, my hands made my dreams come true. I finished the horses first and with a bit of help from my orc, made them gallop on a set of wheels. The little orcs came next, a bit more delicate and full of details. My orc made an excellent model and with a few changes here and there, my wooden orc family was complete. The last thing I made, with more than one blush along the way, was a minotaur doll. At the behest of my husband, I made him in my image, with short curved horns at the side of his head and wide legs.

A creek came from the door, the measured steps of my orc following moments later. I laughed softly to myself and set down the doll on the table next to the others. His strong arms sneaked under mine, his tusks poked at my shoulder and his lips planted a quick kiss on my neck. My hands searched for his and rough fingers caressed his smooth yellow skin

"Do you think she will like them?" I whispered after a few moments, a knot forming in my throat.

"I'm sure she will. It is quite a big gift." He whispered back with a soothing tone, resting his head on my shoulder.

"They still need to be painted and smoothed. Maybe cut a bit more to make the details stand out and--"

"It's okay, we still have time." He cut me off gently. "And if push comes to shove, we can make a visit out of it. I'm sure she'll love to play with paint."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure she will."


	8. Day 9 - Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rarely does anyone die with all their affairs in order. When such a thing happens to you, who can help you find closure?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the ninth entry of the orctober prompts given by Dnddentists
> 
> This one was a bit hard to make, because I didn't like the feel of the magic and had to rewrite it a bit. That being said, I hope you enjoy and remember to leave your comments bellow.

Lucian Basken glanced across the room, his dark gray eyes judging the orc before him. She had broad shoulders and wide hips, skin the color of desert's in the morning and hair the color of oil. Her dress, once surely a thing of marvel, was worn and dirty, its color faded.

"Are you sure you want to do this? You may not get the answers you want, if any at all." Lucian said with a gruff voice, his pipe resting on a gloved hand. His ears folded against his head in concern.

"I need to know Mr. Basken. I can't go back to that house and spend another night wondering what may have happened that night. Or, or if it even happened that night."

"I see, if that's what you wish--"

"It is." the woman said with a tone that left no room for discussion.

Lucian took a puff from his pipe, letting the smoke fill his muzzle before the relaxing burn passed to his lungs. For a moment, there was nothing before the hyena-like-man, just a vast darkness that spread in every direction. Then he saw the flickers of purple flame gather in front of him and a deep sense of longing invaded his heart. The flames took the form of a young woman, almost as tall as him and with a thin figure; her eyes filled with a deep sorrow. Lucian blew out the smoke in his lungs, sending a silent question in the gray cloud. The woman nodded at him, resolution shining in her eyes before she vanished with the cloud of gray smoke. Lucian's vision cleared, the material world once again in his sight and his goal clear in his mind.

"Then it's best we start. Please, stand up in the center of the circle, yeah, over there, by the red dot." The hyena man said with his business tone, locking the room's door with a flick of his wrist and a hint of purple sparks.

"Mr. Basken, will it hurt?" The orc asked, her body seeming impossibly tall inside the red lines of the circle.

Lucian came to a stop, his ears twitched at the top of his head. Compassionate eyes met the woman's, her own pain reflected in the gray orbs. "No, it won't hurt you a bit, at least not physically. Emotionally though, that's another matter entirely."

"I didn't mean me. I meant, will it hurt her? Am I being selfish by asking her to show right here, right now?" Silver shone in the woman's hands, a delicate silver chain looped around her wrist and led to a crystal rose. Longing tugged harder at his heart strings, a sign from the Other Woman's own feelings. So that's the memento.

"Mrs. Albores I know it is scary and nerve wracking. Meeting with those who are gone, is never an easy thing and it always brings back fears we thought overcome." Lucian said with a soft and even tone, a thin trail of smoke spiraling from his wooden pipe to the low ceiling. "I can assure you, however, that she will feel no pain. She wants to speak with you, one last time, she needs it and so do you. Do this for her and for yourself, help each other move on."

"I will. For the both of us. You may begin Mr. Basken." The woman nodded with conviction, clutching the rose to her chest.

"Good, now remember. You will see her as you best remember her, you will hear her voice, just like when she was alive, but you won't be able to touch her."

Mrs. Albores brow creased and a slight trembling appeared on her hands."Will you, will you be able to listen to what we say?"

"Yes, I will but don't fret, the moment the ritual is over, I'll forget about it all. It's all part of the contract we signed."

The orc's eyes fell to the ground, her shoulders slumped down as soft murmurs escaped her mouth. He turned his back to give her some privacy and focused on his preparations. He picked up a handful of herbs from a set of drawers at the back of the room, the strong scent of dried plants piercing through the thick smoke, Next came a bowl of gray iron where a viscous green liquid laid. And last, but not least were a few pieces of quartz that laid upon his desk, their soft pink surface reflecting the pale light of the room. With calm steps, he placed all the materials on a small wooden table near the circle. Lucian took another puff from his pipe before the hyena man turned his gaze back towards the orc.

"Final chance to back out Mrs. Albores. Then, here we go."

"I am ready. Please, let's begin."

Lucian got to work at once. His hands cutting the herbs into a dozen tiny pieces over the iron bowl. Tendrils of greed smoke rose from the liquid and the thick stench of burned wood spread across the room. The herbs done, the hyena man moved with long steps across the room, placing a bits of quartz over the red line of the circle. One, two, three, and so on until there were eight. All of them equally spaced apart and glowing with a muted purple light.

Lucian came to a stop in front of the wooden table and submerged his pipe into the dark green liquid. Green fire rose from the bowl, consuming it all for a couple of seconds that brought a scream out of Mrs. Albores. The fire was replaced with thick clouds of green smoke, the scent of burned fur joining the others. The human swallowed hard when hyena man turned back to look at her, a purple glint dancing in his eyes and his pipe hanging from a gloved hand.

"On my right hand I hold the golden thread, on my left hand I hold the bone cane. Divide. Reverse. Search. Cry. Sever the veil with ashes and truth." Lucian's voice reverberated in the closed room, the air growing more tense with every words that left his lips. There was something unnatural to the hyena's voice, a faint echo that drilled into the human's ears.

"Mr. Basken?"

"Oh dark star, three headed dog, azure snake, rotten egg. Oh sweet call of the grave, melody of the cold death. Twisted memory of Yesterday, forgotten augur of Gray Plays. Grant us but a glimpse of the dream that never ends; of the blood, bone and soul that left us to walk another way."

The smoke swirling around Mrs. Albores, a soft cry leaving her mouth before the world was swallowed by the twister of smoke. When she opened her eyes moments later, she stood alone in the circle. Safe and worried. Walls of gray smoke surrounded her on all sides and the coldness of the air pierced through her dress. She was about to call for the mage's help when a purple glow claimed her attention. She couldn't hold back her gasp, nor the tears that fell from her eyes.

"Elizabeth" She muttered as she stared at the ghost of her friend and lover.


	9. Day 10 - Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old wounds often add up when the weather change and more than one claims they can predict the weather when it does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the tenth entry of the orctober prompts given by Dnddentists https://twitter.com/dndentists/status/1304948153448161280?s=19
> 
> This one stars Wumannok, another one of Merellien's orc which you can find here https://twitter.com/merellien/status/1250067066494861314?s=20

Wumanok grunted in his hammock in his hammock when a cold emptiness settled in his old wounds. For the old orc, the moods of his wounds were like family to him, inconvenient but helpful at times. The sigh of relief that left him a few seconds later told him that, this time, his wounds were here to help. Tingles coursed through his legs and arms as the pressure in his old war wounds grew smaller. It was a sweet release from the usual aches that made their home in his old body. But it was not to last, for a strange sensation spread through the back of his head. It started like a slight tickle at the back of his neck but soon changed to the prickle of a hundred needles digging into his neck. wrinkled green hands closed around the borders of his hammock while a deep growl rumbled in the old orc's chest. Minutes passed in this discomfort, the orc's heart drumming on his ears. By the time the sensation had faded, the orc's body was covered in a layer of sweat and the blindfold covering his eyes stuck to his skin.

Wumanok leaned back in his hammock, letting his spent body recover. His mind, however, was swirling with thoughts. Memories of the last time his wounds had complained this badly flashed across his mind, the relentless assault of rain on wood ringing in his ears followed by the piercing cold of glacial winds. His breath hitched when the memories came to an end, the urgency of the situation making his heart beat strongly in his chest. The dark green orc sat up on his hammock with a groan. The coldness of the floor traveled up his bare feet and send shivers down his spine. The flapping of winds reached his ears, heavy and worried. Wumanok took a deep breath, steeling his resolve and clearing his mind, before he searched deep inside himself for that spark of magic. He could see it in his mind's eye, a raging bonfire burning next to his heart. His magic in his grasp, he relaxed his body and expanded his senses. The soft breeze that came from the door, the tense fabric of his hammock under his fingers, the faint scent of rain in the air. It all was amplified, threatening to overwhelm his senses but with the focus he developed in battle, he focused on the bird. The sound of their wings moving through the air, their soft breaths, the warmth of their presence.

Wumanok let the magic flow between the two of them. Shocks ran over his skin and a metallic taste filled his mouth. The next moment, he was not only Wumanok the old orc, but also Raik the condor. His unseeing eyes replaced by the bird's sharp ones. A few firm commands were enough to get Raik to jump out from their perch by the window, his large wings extended wide at their sides. Cold morning air beat against their large winds as their fell, a single black spot in the sea of gray of the mountain side. Drafts of wing pushed against the condor's wing, lifting them up in the sky with grace. High above the ground, the currents of winds brushing their feathers, the whole world was laid bare for Raik to see and the tidings coiled around Wumanok's heart like a boa. From the clear sky, to the cold of the morning air and the quietness of the mountain, it was easy to think of it as a nice and easy day, but to Raik the story was different. The condor could feel it in the air, a warning carried by the winds. A storm was coming, strong and unforgiving. His instincts screamed to take refuge, to hide away in some cave in the mountains and wait for it to pass.

Raik burst through the window a few minutes later, nervous cries leaving his beak. His distress echoed in the former warrior's heart, his wings flapping ceaselessly at their side. Wumanok showered the bird with love and safety, his thick green fingers gently caressing the bird's beak. The old orc spent more time than he would have liked tending to Rafik, unable to leave the loyal condor in such a state for even a moment. The chill of the morning was already gone when the old orc finally left his hut, a simple blue robe clad around his body. Wumanok flew down the road to the village, his strong legs beating down the familiar dirt road with alacrity. The weight of his duty weighted heavily on his mind, the uncertainty of the storm constraining his heart.

Wumanok's lungs were burning by the time he reached the gate, cold sweat running down his back. Worried shouts came from afar, accompanied by the jingling of metal. The heavy steps grew closer, only one pair. Wumanok turned towards the coming orc, a cool familiar presence caressing the edges of his mind. The old orc gave the worried warrior a reluctant smile, chiding himself for looking so out of sorts.

"Elder Dar'er, what's wrong?" asked a baritone voice, respect and youth woven in his tone.

"Ill tidings I'm afraid young Ramdek." the orc replied with a grim tone, extending his arm for the young orc to take. "Please, take me to the Council, we need to warm them."

Ramdek's hand closed around the older orc's arm, the leather of his gloves rough against the thick skin. With a gentle pull, the young guard quickly set into motion, his whispered curses not escaping the old orc's ears. Wumanok knew those wouldn't be the last ones he would be hearing today and he could already tell it was going to be a long day.


	10. Day 11 - Hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In times of strife we seek comfort in the familiar, we yearn something that fulfills our expectations and we can predict. But when it is that familiarity that is leaving our lives, how are we to supposed to act?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the eleventh entry of my orctober stories based on the prompts given by Dnddentist https://twitter.com/dndentists/status/1304948153448161280?s=19
> 
> I wanted to try a few things on this one, so I hope you enjoy and let me know your thoughts on the comments.

The cream brush parted the red mane with ease, the smell of coconut and roses clinging to it. Each pass of the brush smoothing out the mess of curls for only a few moments. Since she was a child, Elena had thought these brushing sessions were a lost cause. No matter what brushes she brought or what lotions she applied, Maritza's mane never retained any shape but it's curly forest. Yet she still jumped up at any chance to help her half-orc friend. Some times it was just an honest opinion on her looks, at others it meant to try to tame the wild mane and others still it meant--

"Elena, can I ask you a question?" Maritza said with a melodious voice, her shoulders growing tense.

"You already did but you may ask another one." Elena replied with a deeper voice, like a distant thunder. A trait befitting her orcish heritage.

"Have you ever thought of leaving? Going away to places beyond our hills? Seeing the world?"

Elena's came to a stop, a bundle of red hair trapped in her thin green fingers. Her brows creased in worry, her friend's words ringing in her ears.

"I have." was all Elena could say, her mind a jumble of thoughts and emotions.

"Don't you think it would be exciting? Meeting heroes and villains, traveling through far away lands, living the legends that we were told so often when we were children." There was a wishful tone to her voice, a fragile beauty that left a sour taste in Elena's mouth.

"Maybe. It always sounded exciting in Granny Lucy's stories," she admitted, "but they were also dangerous. "

"But that's what makes them exciting in the first place. Just imagine, the two of us going through the crystal Laberinths of Arcadia, or visiting the sea of Caves of Terragia. Maybe we could enjoy the Festival of Fire of La Florencia, or go to the Night of Tears in Castleon."

"There are many roads between us and any of those place Maritza, how do you expect us to get there?"

"The same way Solangel and Marielis did of course, we'll buy a pair of strong horses to take us there and--"

Elena set down the brush harshly on the table, the thud silencing Maritza. "And then what? A sea separates of from La Florencia, Castleon is at war with Damasco, Terragia has closed their borders since the fiasco of the King's wedding and, as you yourself told me, Arcadia is lost to all but their friends. I don't know about you but I have never met a Taurus in my life."

"Come on, don't be such a killjoy. Sure, La Florencia is far, but there are tons of cities for us to see along the way. It would take us years to reach Castleon, their war will be over by the time we get there." Elena turned on her seat, taking her friend's hands in hers. Her soulful brown eyes begged Elena to understand her.

"Maritza, please--"

"No, you know we can do it. We have done it already. Remember our trip to Karesh, how much we laughed when we finally reached the city. The beauty of Lake Radia in the afternoon."

"I do remember. I remember how we were lost in the desert. I remember the merchants who saved us out of kindness, because we had nothing to give them. I remember how angry our parents were when we came back, how worried they had been the months after that."

"We made a few mistakes--"

"We could have lost our lives." Elena shouted, freeing her hands from Maritza's hold while tears threatened to fall from her eyes.

"And what lives are they?" Martiza stood up, marching up and down one side of the room as she listed her grivances. "We spend half our days making inventories, replying to letters and begging for aid. And the other half is spend dancing to our parents' every whim. We barely have time to ourselves, to learn who we are, what we want."

"And you think you will get the time to do so on the road? Where the safety of a roof and the warmth of a fire is never assured? Or maybe you will think of that the next time you're crossing through the desert and your water-skin turns empty?"

The two friends stared at each other, baring their souls in the sanctity of their room. Silence reigned supreme for several seconds, their hands trembling.

"I don't want this to be everything I am Elena. I know what you think, that I'm still a kid, that I don't think things through."

"Maritza I--"

"I know, you always give me the same worried looks but I'm not a kid anymore. I have thought about this long and hard. I have spent nights without a wink of sleep thinking of this."

"And you still wish to do it. Where will you even go? What will you do there? How are you going to keep yourself fed?" Elena crossed the room, taking Maritza's trembling hands into her own.

Maritza's voice was soft but full of passion as she said, "I am going to the city of Aquerintos first. I have a friend there who says I can stay with him for a season, while I sort myself out."

"You're not talking about Patroklos, are you? Maritza, you know he's barely got himself put together."

"He's been doing better, he has started working as a potter and it's been going well for him."

Elena paled when her suspicions were confirmed, a wave of nausea raising from her stomach. She bit her lips and focused on the soft touch of her friend's hands.

"There is nothing I can say to change your mind, is there?" Elena said after a few seconds, her voice filled with resignation.

"No, I will do this. I need to do this, for my own sake."

Elena couldn't hold back her tears, the knowledge splitting her hard in pride and sadness. "You were always so willful. I never could get you to change your mind."

"That's not true, you changed me a lot. I'm better because of you. More careful, more aware of my flaws."

"I obviously didn't do enough."

"Come with me." Martiza said with passion, grasping the orc's hand tightly in hers.

"What?" Elena couldn't believe her ears, for the second time that day her friend had taken the rug from under her feet.

"Come with me to Aquerintos. We can start a new life over there. We can discover ourselves and then, we could travel the world. You know there's nothing we can't do when we work together."

Elena stepped away from her red haired friend, her hands seeking support in the nearest wall. "I can't. I can't do that."

"Of course you can, you're stronger than you give yourself credit for."

"I can't do that Martiza. I can't leave my family behind. They need me."

"Elena." whispered Maritza with shock in her voice.

"Dad has started to forget things, mom's back is acting up and none of my brothers have a good head for business. I can't leave them like that."

"We won't be together then."

"No, we won't."

The two friends shared a look and at once, they pulled each other into a tight hug. Warm rivers of tears slid down their faces, their sobs echoing in the small room. A single though running through both of their mind: We may never meet again.

"I hope you'll be happy." Maritza said between sobs, clutching the fabric of her friend's dress.

"I hope you'll be happy too."


	11. Day 12 - Weapon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're reaching the end of this batch of orctober stories and this is the 12th so far. These stories are based on prompts given by Dnddentist https://twitter.com/dndentists/status/1304948153448161280?s=19
> 
> This one was a blast to write too, mostly because I enjoy mentor student relationships in fiction, they got ton of growth potential for both parties. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one too everyone.

The clack of wood rang in my ears, the shock traveling through my arms up to my shoulders. A grunt left my mouth as I pushed more of my weight on my stick. Impassive green eyes met mine, judging me with coldness. I jumped back, tusks bared. Blood pumped in my ears, my hands clutching my wooden stick. The old orc lifted his stick, no emotion on his face. I jumped at him, a roar in my lips. Eyes focused on his hands. A quartet of strikes rained upon the old orc but they all met the same fate as the ones before. I growled in frustration, my blood boiling in my veins. I rose my stick, widened my stance. My stick cut through the air. Gray brows turned into a frown. Anger flashed in green eyes. A loud clack reached my ears and pain sprung from my hands. The next moment I was flying through the air.

My shoulders took the brunt of the fall, forcing a grunt out of my lips. Pain shoot on my skin and spread like wildfire down my back. The rest of my body hit the ground seconds later just as my vision was swallowed by darkness. I was alone with my heavy breath and pounding heart. The rough earth digging into my skin while the scorching sun shone upon me. Long seconds passed before color returned to my world and I saw the end of a wooden sword pointed at my face. Dark green eyes stared at me from behind the sword, calm but firm. The message was clear.

"Sorry." I muttered after the oppresive silence became unbearable. The disappointment in those honest green orbs, made me avert my gaze, shame flooding my heart.

"I have told you to keep your temper in check Lucas." he replied with a grave voice, finally removing his sword. "It makes you predictable, easy to goad and it can cost you a fight."

"I tried, alright! I did what you told me and it didn't work!" I shouted and regretted it moments later. The displeased hug from the old orc stung like fire. I wished the earth would swallow me at once.

The tall orc sat by my side, placing a meaty hand over my shoulder. "That's why we are training, so you can learn how to do it."

"And I want to do it Master Rokash, I really want to but..."

"It's hard, I know. Few things in life are harder than understanding the self and learning how to live with it."

"I wish I could be like you: Controlled, quiet, wise. I'm sure everyone thinks the same." I admitted after a few seconds of silence, melancholy clinging to my voice.

"Do you really think so? That being like me would solve your problem?"

The hand on my shoulder gripped me tighter, bringing me out of my fortress of silence. "I don't know. Sometimes, sometimes I do."

"It is true that it could save you some trouble. Maybe you wouldn't fall to easy traps. Perhaps you wouldn't explode at your father or your friends. Nor would you break equipment when anger gets the best of you." The older orc's tone was free of any malice, his voice calm and even.

"Then, you think I should be more like you too."

"I think if you were, you'd spend long hours doubting your every move. You'd worry about being too expressive or not expressive enough when you talk to others. You'd have a hard time knowing how you feel."

I stared at the old orc with widened eyes, conflict wringing my heart. "Then, then what should I do Master Rokash?"

"You find a way to make it work, to live with it." Master Korash offered me a gentle smile, his chipped tusks framing his lips. "That's what we all end up doing and some times it works wonders, some times it is our gravest sin."

"Is that the secret to the aether blade?"

"No, that's the secret to being an adult. You make things work when you can and pay for your failure when you can't. Wielding the aether blade is only an extension of that, if a extreme one."

I sat up, hugging my knees close to my chest while my hands shake in . My mind was a twister of vague thoughts and rampaging emotions that closed in on me. With a strained smile, I asked the old orc: "Do you think I really can do it, wielding an aether blade? Or becoming an adult?"

"Yes, I believe you can, there's not a single doubt in my mind." The old orc said with a warm tone, ruffling my hair. "You're doing much better than when we started. You have a strong heart and passion, that will take you far. We just have to temper that anger of yours into something you can use instead of something that uses you."

"And I'd be like you?"

A soft chuckle left Master Korash as he jumped to his feet, his gray mane glinting under the sun's ray. "No, not like me Lucas. You'll be great in your own way. You'll become a better you, the one that you're creating right now for your own sake."

A smile made its way to my face, lifting the weight of my heart.

"Now, let's go back to training. We're not leaving until you can land a proper hit on me." the old orc said as he threw my sword back at me.

My hands closed around the wooden hilt, excitement burning in my veins."Yes, sir."


	12. Day 13 - Hobby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second to last story of this batch and the thirteenth one based on prompts given by Dnddentist https://twitter.com/dndentists/status/1304948153448161280?s=19
> 
> This one is more melancholic than the others and probably due to that, it's not going to be as good as the others. That being said, I liked writing how this character deal with loss and pain. I hope you can enjoy it and remember to leave your thoughts in the comments.

Green fingers danced upon the black surface, pushing down the strings of the large mandolin. Melancholic notes filled the air around the orc, his other hand striking the cords with controlled strength. Alone in the forest clearing, with no one around to hear him, Naidel Silvertusk let his pain out in the only way he knew how. The music wailed for him, the strings dug into his thick skin and tears threatened to fall from his eyes. Memories flooded his mind, a thousand phantom feelings stabbing at his heart. Words left unsaid, whispers in the dark, pitying looks and derisive laughs rose from the depths of his mind, all part of his old life, one he had thought he had buried years ago. They were all connected, the memories, his pain, the warmth tears running down his pale face. They all lead to an old friend, with blue scales and eyes the color of oaks.

Naidel's song turned bittersweet, with long drawn out notes that spoke of long days playing on the lake and swift staccatos of pain. A sour taste filled the orc's mouth as the images danced on his mind, all those laughs, those days spent without worries. Those dreams shared with the sunset as their witness and the long days under the rain. The strings sung happily of all the epic challenges of their youth that now seemed so small.

Soft left the orc's mouth when the memories of their last days together flashed through his mind. The music sped up, the notes coming like a flood. The strings dug into the orc, the physical pain drowned by the emotional one. A stream of memories dashed through his mind: betrayed brown eyes, blue scales stained with blood, bile burning his throat, pain bursting on his cheek, a broken tusk laying in the ground. Tear's ran freely down the Naidel's cheeks, pleading eyes staring at the distant moon.

Words filled with venom rang in his ears, digging into his heart like daggers. His shoulders sagged with guilt and a sour taste filled his mouth. The mandolin screamed with anger and hate, their cry swallowed by the woods. Nadiel's fingers burned with pain, the relentless playing taking its toll on the orc. He pushes on anyways, his mind set to pay with his body what he could not pay with his life. The strings swung curses at the orc, whipping his heart with sadistic glee. They brought out the conscience he had silenced for years, his selfish heart put in the rack to pay for his crimes.

Nadiel was sure he would never forget the letter, a dirty piece of paper he would have trashed any other day but read for the name on the address. He had lost no time in opening the thing, out of curiosity more than any desire to talk with his old friend. The black scrawls on that dirt brown paper had been burned into his mind, each word destroying him like rocks against glass. The world had flipped over its head, the colors had been stolen from his eyes. The last few lines, an appeal to a better nature he didn't believe he had anymore, were the only chance at redemption he could have had. But that was never meant to be, Nadiel had found that out the hard way. After months of planning and bribing he had bought a way out for his friend. By putting his life on the line, he had brought him back home, or so he had thought.

There was nothing left of the friend he had known, only an empty husk of what he had been remained. His scales no longer shone under the sunlight, his eyes were constantly filled with fear. There was no more confidence in his voice, the force of character that had inspired me had been beaten out of him by war. His moves were jerky and hesitant, his back tense and ready to spring at loud noises. Nadiel didn't know how he had managed that first week living together, where every error could end tint those brown eyes with terror. Like a bull in a china shop, he felt trapped, any move he made would lead to disaster.

The orc's song came to an end with drawn out longing notes, fading away in the darkness of the night. Nadiel fell to his knees, cradling the mandolin to his chest, and let the emotions wreak havoc on his heart.

"You still play." said a rough voice from the side, startling the orc out of his mind. Nadiel eyes opened wide when familiar scales glittered under the moonlight. The orc's throat dried up, his tongue grew heavy like lead. The dark blue reptile approached with trembling steps, thing fingers holding on the trees for support.

Nadiel could only nod, the waves of pain from his fingers confirming him he wasn't dreaming. The orc muscles tensed up, his heart fell to his gut and his blood lost all warmth. Nadiel bit his lip as the lizard man took a seat by his side, leaning his fragile frame against the strong oak behind him.

"I was surprised to see you gone." the lizard man said with a melancholic tone, "I thought something had happened or perhaps you couldn't deal with me anymore."

"I didn't want to bother you, you need your rest."

"I have done nothing but rest since I came back. I could use something different." the lizard man shot back with an edge to his voice.

Nadiel gulped, his hands clutching the instrument against his chest."Like what?"

"A song. Do you still remember what old Dani used to sing at the festivals?"

"A crown of pearls? Yeah, I do."

"Can you play it for me?" said the lizard man with a wishful tone, leaning his head back against the trunk.

"Are you sure? Won't it, won't the sounds make you feel uncomfortable?"

"Maybe, but it would be nice to have something that reminds me of home?"

"Aren't you already home?" the question weighted heavily on Nadiel's mind, his stomach twisting into knots.

"Yes and no. This place is my home, my whole life is etched in every stone and every tree."the lizard admitted with thick regret. A soft smile was drawn in the lizard's muzzle, weak and bittersweet. "But it has changed, it has changed so much."

"Very well, just, remember it's been a while since I played it."

"I'm sure you'll do well, you always had a way with music."


	13. Day 14 - Childhood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last story for this batch, the fourteenth over all based on prompts given by Dnddentist .
> 
> I wanted to thank FabulousMoose for all his support on these prompts, so I picked up one of the prompts he liked and expanded a bit more on it. So this one is a sequel to day 7 Royal. I hope you all like it and remember to leave your thoughts in the comments.

"Your mind is drifting again Juh'ra, what is it that weights on your mind this time?" Asked Kalam, his deep voice sending shivers down Juh'ra's back.

"It is nothing of importance, my lord," The orc was quick to reply, his throat burning with the half lie.

Kalam's fangs flashed under the purple light of the candelabra, each tip looking sharp enough to pierce metal with ease. A large finger pointed towards the table, where upon a board crimson pieces outnumbered marble ones three to one.

"I don't think so. I remember you being a much better player than this. You even won at times."

Acid burned at the back of the former king's throat and a sour taste spread through his mouth. His legs trembled under him, hidden by the circular table, though Juh'ra doubted anything could be hidden from the demon in his home. The orc gulped, his voice coming out with clear strain. "I wouldn't want to impose on your kindness my lord, surely you have more important matters to worry about."

"I'll be the one to decide one my friend." There was a cold edge to the words, a roughness that ate at Juh'ra's resolve. "Really Juh'ra, you must be a masochist. What could be so bad you hide it from me? Don't tell me you fell in love with me."

The demon wolf's guffaws drowned any other noise in the room, his robes threatening to break with each breath. The orc joined with a nervous laugh of his own, cold sweat running down his back as he prayed for the demon to move on. Piercing red eyes banished that hope. The orc hands clenched into fist when the demon's mind brushed against his own, the message all but clear for the orc.

"I can understand if you did but unfortunately for you, I don't think of you that way."

"It is very unfortunate indeed my lord." Juh'ra said through gritted teeth, the brand on his stomach burning like coals.

"Yes, indeed it is. Now, speak your mind my friend before your insides turn to ashes."

The chilling touch of compulsion pushed against his mind like a shield wall. His brand burned hotter on his stomach, forcing a moan out of the orc's lips. The moment of distraction proved fatal for the orc's resistance, the demon's magic forcing the words out of him with cold detachment.

"It is my family my lord. I worry about them, if they're doing well or if they have all died."

The demon leaned back into his large seat, the dark wood groaning in protest while a soft humming came from the horned wolf. The orc turned his gaze away, heat coursing through his veins. He focused his eyes on the rest of the grand room and searched for anything to distract him from his shame. From the regal paintings that moved on their own volition, to the finely crafted furniture. They ended up on the crystal window at the far end of the room, the transparent material powdered with the white of snow and ice.

"It's only been a year Juh'ra, I'm sure they're faring well. I gave you enough time to prepare, did I not?" said Kalam with a smug tone, red eyes daring me to defy them.

"You did my lord, and for that I thank you." Juh'ra admitted, his heart twisting with conflicted emotions. "I just keep worrying about them, surely you understand a father's worry."

"I have never been a father Juh'ra, how do you expect me to know how you feel?"

"My apologies my lord, I only meant--" Kalam cut the orc off with the raise of one clawed hand, the demon wearing an amused grin.

"I know what you meant. I may not have had children of my own, but I did watch over yours as they grew. Almost makes me wish I could bring them here."

Juh'ra eyes widened, his body growing deadly still. "My lord, you can't--"

"You have no right to tell me what I can or can't do Juh'ra, not anymore."

The orc bit his lips until the ferrous taste of blood filled his mouth, his body trembling with impotent rage. Kalam stood up, his large frame towering over the former king.

"Once you took me on your travels, showed me the world and taught me its way. Back then, I followed your every word and believed every one of your tales. Do you remember those days Juh'ra? When we lived on the edge of a knife? Do you remember what you promised?" The floor shook with every step the horned wolf took, his silver fur reflecting the sinister flames as he trod a path behind the orc. Green fingers dug into the woof of the chair, the former king's heart pounded heart against his chest.

"I do my lord. I thought you had forgotten."

"I forget nothing about those days, they were the best of my life because you were by my side Juh'ra. Though in those times you were only Juh The Exile." the demon's voice was full of longing, his words sweet like honey. "Together we both rose to power, no one could stop us, and so, the night before we won our greatest battled, you promised to be with me, forever."

"There's no forever for a mortal, my lord." The demon's hand grasped the orc's shoulders, sharp claws pressing against the thick skin without breaking it.

"You're right, no mortal could live as long as I could. It's a good thing you're not a mortal anymore."

The orc's heart skipped a beat and nausea rose from his gut. "Wha-- What do you mean Kalam?"

Kalam chuckled darkly, a single claw tracing a path from Juh'ra's shoulder to his neck. "You didn't think you'd live this long without a little bit of help, did you? I've been changing you bit by bit ever since you signed that contract Juh'ra. Your long life, your prowess, your unerring memory, none of those would have been yours if you had remained a simple orc. So I remade you into my own image, put the seeds of corruption in your soul and helped them grow over the years."

"You, you couldn't have, our contract--"

"Said I'd do everything in my power to fulfill my end of the bargain. Everything. And so I did. Didn't you wonder why you came here so meekly? Why you didn't bring your heroes and your armies? Did you think it was your honor, your virtue, your word that brought you here?"

Chills ran down the orc's body, his mind running out of words. Memories of his final days as king flashed through his mind. The ceremonies, the dinners, the processions, the speeches. They all seemed so distant and empty. Kalam's muzzle came to rest by the orc's ear, the scent of blood and death reaching the king's broad nose.

"I know the truth of your heart Juh'ra. I know you didn't lay with anyone for years before coming, because no one got your blood pumping. I know you ate less than even the youngest of your children and could still throw grown knights to the ground with ease. I know you haven't visited any temple in decades and the last time you did, your feet were burned for weeks, And I know the lie you told before you came here."

The words left Juh'ra's lips, tears streaming down his face. "I'm going to stop the awakening of the Demon Lord."

"Yes, that one. Extremely simple but fitting. Now, now, no need for tears. I'm not so cruel as to deny you a little mercy my friend. A few spells here and there, a bit of lighting and a couple of earthquakes were enough to sell the story. I even threw 'your' charred corpse outside the 'ruins' of my castle. Your legend shall live on."

"Kalam, please, tell me one thing." the orc begged with a broken voice, his world shattered beyond repair.

"Anything for you Juh'ra, anything."

"My kids, all of them, they weren't-- They weren't demons, were they?"

One clawed finger forced the orc to look upwards, right into the demon's fiery eyes. Juh'ra let out a whine, his brand glowing a deeper red the more he stared into those piercing eyes.

"No, they weren't and they aren't. My contract with them forbids it."

"Your...contract?"

"You really didn't think you were the only one I approached, did you?"


	14. Day 15 - Group

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thokgrim had done many jobs during his life as a mercenary, but his new clients defied everything he had ever learned. He just hoped that wouldn't end up killing them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The third batch of Orctober prompts has come, bringing a big more of orc love for you all to enjoy. First among the new entries we have the tale of an orc old mercenary and his new clients. Thanks to Merellien for letting me use some of her orcs, you can see them here https://twitter.com/merellien/status/1250067066494861314?s=20 . This one is also part of a series of short stories based on prompts given by Dnddentist Remember to let me know what you think in the comments.

Thokgrim marched ahead of the group, his large body clad in a worn brown cloak. The orc’s black eyes set on the vast plains ahead, searching for any sign of trouble. It had been three days since they had departed from the safety of the city’s wall and besides meeting a few travelers on the road, the journey so far had been peaceful. Even so the orc stubbornly kept up his guard, the rumors of ambushes on this road circling his mind like a fly. He didn’t like being so exposed, their ox-driven wagon a clear target for any bandit that dared approach. There were no covers in sight besides the odd tree or rock, and years of experience told Thokgrim that wouldn’t be enough if it came to an ambush. 

Guffaws came from behind him and the orc’s hands flew to his knifes. The snickers that followed made his hand tighten around the pommel of his trusty hand, a few select curses leaving his mouth. Thorngrik looked over his shoulder and glared at the group of kobolds behind him, his latest clients. The small lizard men barely reached the olive orc’s waist and yet their voices boomed all over the plains. Their limbs were all long and thin like tree branches, awful for holding a weapon, and their eyes shone with the zeal of life common to youth. Thokgrim hadn’t stood a chance when they approached him in the tavern, heavy coin purses in their clawed hands. He had choked on his ale they asked him, a lone mercenary, if they had enough to hire his services. There had been no talk, no initial trade of pleasantries or brokering. The orc couldn’t have taken them faster into a private room and given them a quick run down of how things worked on the surface. He may as well have been talking to stone for all it was worth, they trio of excited lizards hadn’t stopped talking since they broke camp that morning. 

The olive orc traded a glance with the rear guard mercenary, a stocky human wearing leather armor. The young woman just shrugged and went back to her watch, clearly resigned about their charges. Thokgrim shook his head and wished he could wash the sour taste of his mouth with some ale. The orc didn’t get much time to grumble under his breath, before a cold weight settled on his gut. His body went rigid, his hands closing around his knives. Cracks appeared on the earth before him, shooting straight towards him.

“Get back” Thokgrim shouted before he jumped to the side. The ground collapsed beneath his feet and a piercing screech came from the darkness. 

The orc rolled on the earth, rocks digging into his back. Screams and sobs reached his ears as he jumped back to his feet. A large snow white shape stood in front of him, rising 3 meters into the air and with a dozen thin squirming legs. Sharp fangs flashed on its wide mouth, a green slime falling from the border while pure black eyes reflected the orc’s form. The monster let out another screech and threw its body towards him. 

Thokgrim jumped to the side, a resounding crash reaching his ears. He dashed forward, the wriggling form of the beast at the edges of his vision. Another screech reached his ears, followed by a choking sound. Thokgrim leaped to the side, trusting his instincts. A sizzling came from the side, an acrid scent burned his nose. The beast lost no time, jumping towards the helpless kobolds with acid falling from his mouth.

“Thalia, get them out of here!” Thokgrim yelled, his legs beating the ground.

His blades flashed from under his cloak, a sickly green glow coming from its edges. The orc launched himself towards the worm, the large beast’s body an easy target for his knives. Red liquid burst from the long wounds, a high pitched screech drowning all sound. Coal like eyes fell upon the orc, the host of fangs yearning for his blood. 

Thokgrim didn’t have a chance to check on his clients before the worm sent him flying with a swing from its tail. Thokgrim rolled over the ground, pain shooting from his chest and back. He grunted as he jumped back to his feet, the ferrous taste of blood invading his mouth. 

Orc and worm fought with might, their bodies dancing around each other, death waiting for one to fall. The worm’s acid flew without mercy where their fangs couldn’t reach. The orc for his part, took every chance to leave thin red lines over the worm’s pale skin, his tusk bared in defiance. 

Thokgrim’s world was reduced to the fight. The pumping of his blood, the burn of his lungs, the shortness of his breath, the tension on his limbs, It became all that filled his mind. He lived for every cut, for every jump, every hit his body took. Every move brought him closer to death, he could taste it in his mouth, but he didn’t know whose it would be. 

The beast reared back with a loud screech, its mouth opening wider than a cave. Thokgrim saw his chance as the beast jumped forward, the darkness of its inside growing before the old orc. Olive hands gripped the knives harder, his legs growing tense as he counted the seconds. The olive orc jumped back at the last moment, his body moving like a flash. A roar left his lips, an acrid stench hit his nose and his body was sent flying through the air. The crash left him breathless, the subsequent rolls cut at his skin and by the time he came to a stop the world was swirling around him. 

A torturous screech made the orc roll on his side, a moan of pain coming from his lips. Far away from him, the worm was trashing all around, its large body hitting the ground with titanic strength. A glint of metal shone of its head and made the orc smile to himself. The worm fell to its side moments later, a final desperate screech leaving its horrid mouth before it grew silent. 

The orc’s body ached all over as he got up, his clothes torn and olive skin covered in burning scratches. Black eyes scanned the field with worry, a relieved sigh leaving his mouth when he spotted the wagon far in the distance. 

“That should teach them.” Thokgrim muttered to himself, the tone lacking any of its usual snark. His tusks framed the proud smile on his face as he limped towards the worm’s body, intent on recovering his knives.


	15. Day 16 - Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some stories can only be told away from prying eyes, surrounded by those you thrust. Some tales are carried in the blood, vestiges of past struggles. This is one of those tales.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second story of this batch, featuring a particular ritual from a particular tribe. This one is also part of a series of short stories based on prompts given by Dnddentist

The fire crackled before the circle of orcs, giving their green skin a yellow glow. A placid air hung over them as the fire kept the chill of the night at bay, their bellies filled with meat and beer, the best way to finish a camping trip. Small groups were formed around the fire: lovers, friends, siblings, all gathering together after months of separation by the brisk pace of modern life. No words were exchanged, there was no need, their bodies spoke enough for them, in a way no human could hope to match. This was a bond that only orc tribes could have, a sacred tradition passed down for so long, their best scholars could only refer to its origins as The Beginning. For everyone else, it was the Age of Blood, the time were the first orcs walked the earth, struggling to survive against endless dangers. 

An old orc with a mane the color of ash rose up from her place int he logs. Her body trembled with the weakness of age as she leaned on her cane. Her eyes, however, were filled with fierce determination and knowledge. All the other orcs lifted their heads, their tusks covered by their lips in reverence. With clear effort, she gave her tribe a deep bow, her grave melodic voice weaving a song. Once the last note left her lips, all the orcs moved like a single being and pounded the earth with strong legs. Their elder rose once more, her eyes misted with memories of old days: the first time she had led the ritual, the first time she had helped her own teacher and those blurry occasions when she had seen the rituals as a mere child. She tapped her staff on the hard earth, a cloud of dust raising and mixing with the fire. Another orc rose from the logs, his black hair peppered with white strands while his slim body shone with sweat. 

The elder nodded towards the man, her cane tapping a rhythm on the earth. Without a word, the man started to dance, his every move and shifting scent weaving a tale for all the orcs present. It was in the beginning, after the first orcs were blessed by the nameless Gods, that the first tribes were formed. Born out of sorrow and desperation, for the earth had grown thirsty for orcish blood and sent their many children to hunt them down. 

The dancing orc’s movements grew harsher, dust raising under the strikes of his powerful legs. His musky scent shifted, from its masculine undertones to more acrid ones. Images of battles and blood danced in the gathered orcs eyes, desperation closing their throats. The shadows drew closer to the orcs with every beat of the stick, hands searching comfort in a loved one’s comfort. 

With flowing, patient moves and an earthy scent, the dancer kept his story. Families had gathered for the first time and, without a to communicate to each other, they had prayed from help to any and all who heard them. Such was their need that the Gods answered from their ethereal thrones. The skies had grown darker, the earth had rumbled and lighting fell in the middle of their gathering, scorching the earth. Cries and panic spread through the gathered families, the shape of lighting seared into their eyes.. But as they turned to flee like a single mass of people, a few perceptive orcs noticed something. A new swarm of smells that invaded their nose, stronger and clearer than any they had before, and with the smell, came a new sensation at the back of their head. Their voices rose, a tone of unflinching command clinging to them, and all the orcs came to a stop. 

The dancer’s move picked up on speed once more, his legs stomping the ground between jumps. His arms shot up in every direction like lighting while his skin glistening with sweat. His scent changed once more, turning fiery and sweet. The story carried on, the images of their ancestors dancing in the gathered orc’s eyes, their muscles relaxing one by one. Struggling to understand their new senses, the leaders of each family had gathered and talked for two nights and one day before a decision was reached. To forever walk side by side, their arms supporting each other, their backs sharing the burdens of life, and through their new senses, to form golds as strong as the earth itself.

The orcish dancer came to a stop, his hands lifted high into the air, as if offering his soul to the silver moon. His breath came out ragged, his pupils were dilated and a satisfied smile hung upon his face. The rest of the orc tribe was in a similar state, the intensity of the ritual had taken its toll on them all. Their elder was the first to compose herself, straightening her back with an air of authority and wisdom. With a reverent air, she pulled out a bundle of herbs from her dress and threw them into the fire. The flames rose higher, the smell of peppermint and sandalwood spreading through the air and bringing out the rest of the orcs from their dreamy state, their ritual coming to an end. The elder orc sat back on her log, a soft smile on her face, secure in the knowledge that there was another who could pass on their story.


	16. Day 17 - Nat20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What are you supposed to do when you're pushed into a blind date? What options do you have when you don't want to disappoint anyone? Would it be so bad to be alone for a few more years?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third story of the third batch, this time covering a natural 20. For those of you who are not familiar with dungeon and dragons style of games, a natural twenty means a critical success in a throw, sometimes it translates into more damage, sometimes into a miracle but it is always a nice feeling (when it is not used against you.). In this case we'll follow a very shy human that got roped into a blind date by a friend. Will he find love or will he walk away with a broke heart? We shall see.
> 
> This story is also part of a series of short stories based on prompts given by Dnddentist . Remember to leave your thoughts and comments below, and if you liked the story please leave a vote.

I looked at my watch for the seventh time as I hurried down the street, the merciless metal hands mocking me for my lateness. I cursed softly to myself, pushing through the faceless early night crowd. The urging pressure of time was the only thing that kept me from panicking as the walls of flesh closed around me. The strong smell of sweat and cheap perfumes invading my nose, robbing me of air. Hateful elbows dug into my flesh, relentless bodies pushed against mine, snide remarks were thrown my way and a few even called me names when I went pass them, apologies reflexively leaving my lips. 

I couldn’t leave the crowd fast enough, the oppressing heat of the crowd quickly replaced by the cool air of the night. A gasp left my lips when I spotted the restaurant in the distance, warmth yellow light escaping through its glass doors. Only then, did the full weight of the situation land of my shoulders. My hands trembled the whole way, cold sweat ran down my spine and yet, my legs walked resolutely towards the building. 

“You just need to show up, nothing more, I’ll handle everything else,” rang Maritza’s excited voice in my mind, just as it had done a few days earlier, “I’m sure you’ll hit it off, he’s totally your type dear.”

“But I haven’t even seen him, or met him, what if he hates me? or if he’s disappointed?” I murmured to myself, rubbing my cold hands for warmth. Doubt coiled around my heart, squeezing the hope out of it with relentless might.

Acid churned in my gut when my feet came to a stop before the glass doors. Their polished surface reflecting my poor appearance. My dark blue suit was too tight, clinging to my slim body. My light blue shirt was wrinkled and I was sure the dirt of the city already hung to its edges. My hair was a mess of black curls that no amount of brushing could tame, but nothing as bad as the thick framed glasses I had been forced to wear since I had memory. Goosebumps ran down my spine, the cold air of the night tempting me to leave at once, to run away, go back to the warmth and safety of my apartment, where no one would have to bear with me. I had only taken a single step back, when my traitorous mind conjured the disappointed Maritza’s, herangry judging eyes when she found out I hadn’t even met the guy. The cold treatment that would take weeks to heal. It tore my heart apart. 

I gulped loudly, my heart beating hard against my chest as my trembling hand opened the door. A wave of warm air blasted against my face when I opened the door, the soothing smell of cinnamon and sandalwood filling my nose. A small hallway opened before me, light yellow walls decorated with modern looking paintings led to a noble stair case at the end. I bit my lip, the extravagance of the place made my stomach burn harder but I couldn’t turn back, not yet at least. I meticulously cleaned my shoes on the rug by the door and internally grimaced with every step I took on the shining wooden floor. 

The clinking of cups and the murmur of conversations were the first things to reach my ears before I reached the first floor. The smell of fresh bread and delicious meat came next, making my starving stomach rumble with need. A wide black desk laid in wait at the end of the stairs with a young waitress behind it, blocking the access to the cozy restaurant behind her. The human gave me a polite smile, a pen flashing in her hands.

“Good evening sir and welcome to La Sala Real. Under what name is your reservation?” said the waitress with a cheery tone.

“Ah, uhm, Mrs. Terán. It should be a table for two.” The waitress eyes flashed with mischief, her smile growing wider before she answered me.

“Ah, yes, your partner has already arrived. He’s waiting at the table. Please follow me.”

The words rooted me in place, a sour taste raising to my mouth. I forced a smile and a nod while that tiny voice at the back of my mind berated me for my lateness. The waitress didn’t comment a thing if she noticed, instead she guided me through the seat of tables to the farthest end of the room. Half lit lights gave the area an air of intimacy and privacy, which was further added to by the presence of only two elegant chairs per table. Without breaking her pace, the waitress took me to one of such tables where a giant man sat.

He was a broad orc, almost twice as much as me, with royal blue skin. A mane of matte black hair held closely to his head and went all the way down until it hid beneath his silver suit jacket. My stomach churned with fire when a pair of dark brown eyes looked up at me, nervous but relieved. His pair of large tusks framed a brilliant smile. He rose up at once, his thick muscles threatening to break his three piece suit and the white shirt underneath. Meaty blue hands took mine in his, shaking it with vigor and obvious strength. My mind came to a halt, the words fleeing my mouth as I stared at the big orc before me. I could only nod as the rumble of his words washed over me, his voice husky and deep. He helped me towards my own chair with surprising gentleness before he sat again across me. Concern flashed across brown eyes, his thick brows furrowing as he told something to the waitress. 

All the while, my hands clung to the chair’s arms, the revelation of my date leaving my body like a puppet without strings. My mind rushes through the last conversations between me and Maritza, searching for anything she had said about this, any clue that I had missed but I came up blank. Fear crushed my heart, the doubts of before coming back in full force, turning my blood to ice while my mouth became a desert.

A rumble brought me out of my thoughts, releasing the breath I didn’t know I was holding. Brown orbs were fixed on me, a resigned smile on his face. His hand rose to rub the back of his neck, his voice, deep like thunder, ran through my body but was drowned by the pounding of my heart in my ears. 

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” I forced myself to say, my body trembling like a leaf in the wind. 

“Is this your first time seeing an orc?” He said with an uncertain tone, pain flashing in his eyes.

“Ah, well, no but, it is my first time going to a date with one and--”

“It is not what you expected.” he finished for me, erasing the smile from his face. He let out a deep sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

I looked away from the big orc, a sour taste spreading through my mouth. “I, I really didn’t know what to expect. My friend didn’t tell me anything.”

“I see, I’m sorry for ruining your night.” 

My heart fell to my feet, guilt burning in my stomach. The words left my mouth before I could think them through “You haven’t ruined my night. It was just, I’m not good with surprises. I, I freeze under pressure, that’s all.”

The orc’s eyes widened, a sliver of smile returning to his face. 

“I run my mouth when I’m nervous, got myself into a lot of trouble for that.” A soft laugh left his lips, the table flowers shaking under the sound as he leaned back into his seat. “What do you say we start over again? Forget all this awkwardness?”

His big brown eyes drew me in, the rumble of his voice cooling my burning stomach. I returned his shy smile with one of my own and his face lit up.

“I’d love that. I’m Carlos.” I said, offering my hand to the large orc. His smile grew wider and his blue hand trapped mine in a warm and soft cocoon.

“Azok. A pleasure to meet you Carlos.”

“The pleasure is mine, Azok.”


	17. Day 18 -

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What if they don’t like me?” I muttered to myself, needing to get out of my head.
> 
> Mom came to a stop before me, her pointed ears twitching before she turned around. Dark brown eyes fell on me, her brows raised in question.
> 
> “And why wouldn’t they like you?” she asked with a gravely voice, no malice in her tone.
> 
> My eyes fell to the ground, my fingers digging into the fabrics of my rough pants. “Because I’m not an orc, not really.”
> 
> “But you are.” she replied curtly, her eyes becoming fortresses of wood. Her red sleeveless shirt showing off the muscles of her arms as she crossed them in front of her. “In all the ways that matter, you are.”
> 
> “No, I’m not, stop saying that! You’ve been saying that since I was a child!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fourth entry of this third batch. This one was fun for me to write because I love to mix coming of age with magic, and, let's be real, we all had some doubts about our own abilities as a teen. This one is also part of a series of short stories based on prompts given by Dnddentist . Remember to leave your comments below and to vote if you liked this story.

The earth crunched beneath our feat, my soft steps drowned by my mom’s heavy ones. We hadn’t said a word since we left the village a couple of hours ago, the tightness in my throat killed any words that dared to cross it while mom was never too big on words. She had always been more one for hugs and cuddles, for lifting me up on her shoulders and patching me up whenever I got hurt. Dad had always been the one for words. _But Dad can’t help you this time, words or not._

We pushed deeper into the forest, my twig like legs struggling to match the pace of my mom’s larger ones. Everything about mom was larger than me, better than me. Where I was bony she had strong muscles, where I was short, she stood at least four heads over me and two over Dad. Her yellow green skin was much tougher than mine, rougher too, perfect for working hours on end, unlike my copper skin that blistered after only a couple of hours of work. My fingers rose to my face, caressing my lower lip, right where my tusks would be if it weren’t for my blood. _What will she say when I fail? What will the others do?_ I shook the thoughts out of my head, willing back the burning in my throat. I had to focus. I couldn’t fail, not again.

Slimy sweat covered my body, the hotness of the sun undeterred by the thick canopy of the forest. My feet ached in my tight boots, the last growth spurt had left me with precious little to wear. _And still it wasn’t enough._ My fingers dug into my palm until pain shot up my arms, bringing me out of my treacherous mind. There was no doubt in my mind of where we were going, the trek one my legs had long gotten used to. No,what twisted my gut in a thousand ways, what made my legs tremble like a newborn fawn, was the reason we were going there. The jeers and the curses already rang in my ears, the disappointment in my mom’s eyes dancing before my eyes.

“What if they don’t like me?” I muttered to myself, needing to get out of my head.

Mom came to a stop before me, her pointed ears twitching before she turned around. Dark brown eyes fell on me, her brows raised in question.

“And why wouldn’t they like you?” she asked with a gravely voice, no malice in her tone.

My eyes fell to the ground, my fingers digging into the fabrics of my rough pants. “Because I’m not an orc, not really.”

“But you are.” she replied curtly, her eyes becoming fortresses of wood. Her red sleeveless shirt showing off the muscles of her arms as she crossed them in front of her. “In all the ways that matter, you are.”

“No, I’m not, stop saying that! You’ve been saying that since I was a child!” fire flared in my gut, chains pulled at my heart and the years of side glances exploded out of me.

“Because it is true.”

“No, it is not true, you always want to believe it is true and I wanted that too. I really did but I’m not like you. I’m not an orc, I’m just, I’m just a human, like Dad.” I admitted as warm tears slid down my face and sobs rocked my body.

Strong but gentle arms pushed me against a pillar of flesh, a soft humming reaching my ears. “And so what? That’s not what makes you an orc. Remember the stories.”

“The stories only talk about strong warriors and daring adventurers. About things I could never be with this useless body.”

“It is not useless.” she said as her hands petted my back and head, the familiar motions unraveling the mess of feelings inside me.

“Of course it is. I can’t run as fast as the other kids, or lift as much, or help as much. No matter how much I train, I’m, I’m never going to be like them.”

“And that’s good, you are not them.”

“See, even you believe that!” A firm finger lifted my chin, forcing my watery eyes to meet her stern gaze.

“I believe you are amazing. And I’m sure your familiar will think so too.” She said with a firm tone, her meaty fingers drying my tears.

“You only say that because you’re my mom.” The soft touch of her lips on my forehead was her only reply before she resumed her march through the woods.

A few minutes later we came out of the woods, the endless green of the forest giving way to the gray stone of the mountains. Tall and imposing, the ragged mounds of rock stood watch over a large house. Tightly packed stone formed its walls while a slab of white stone served at its roof. Vines crept down in intervals, their greens and yellows the only break of color in the field of gray. Rough and heavy, that’s how that house had always been, ever since I had memory. Eternal and mysterious, just like the line of orcs that were standing in front of it. Seven of them in total, all clad in heavy robes that covered their feet and hands, but that was not what caught my eye, not, it was their animals, their familiars, whose eyes sent shivers down my spine even from afar. Unlike mom’s wolf back home, whose eyes always watched me with affection and fierce protectiveness, there was a sharp to the eyes of these familiar.

We came to a stop a couple of meters from the line of orcs, the thick scent of incense and ashes pushing into my nose. The oldest among them, a short orc woman with a snow white hair arranged into a bundle, stepped forwards.

“So this is the orcling that needs the rite, yeah?” She said with a raspy voice, her silver eyes glowing with subdued power. She lifted my chin with her wooden cane, her piercing gaze fixed on me. “Yeah, yeah, I can see it. You’re ready, come on boy, your partner is waiting.”

“They are?” I said as the old lady took me by the hand and pulled me towards the stone building. The other orcs turned on their heels and shuffled past the vines.

“Of course they are, they have been waiting for a long time.”

I shot one last look at my mom, pride beaming on her face and gulped, praying it would all turn out well. The vines closed behind me moments later, darkness swallowing all light. I stumbled over my feet as the old priest guided me through the dark, with only the sounds of our steps reaching my ears.

“Stay here, young one.” whispered the orc woman after a few seconds, her rough hand releasing mine.

My heart pounded against my chest, so loudly I hoped the priests couldn’t hear it. I didn’t have much time to wonder before a strong light burst all around me. My hands rose up to block the brilliance, but it was already too late, stars were dancing in my eyes even when closed. Torturous seconds passed before I could open my eyes again and the shapes before me made sense. I was in a small room, with a low ceiling and a dirt floor. Strange markings spread all around me, the thick white lines filling me with unease. Before me stood three of the priests, large rainbow colored flames raising from their extended hands. My eyes darted around, slowly grasping the circle of priest surrounded me, all wielding that strange flame.

“Young one, look forward.” came the raspy voice from the orc woman, the firm weight of authority clinging to her tone. I clutched my hand into fist and did as she said, my eyes meeting her silver ones. “You’ve come before us, your elders, to ask for something. State your purpose young one.”

My muscles grew tense like iron and heat spread through my chest. With trembling voice, I said. “I came to ask for your help in getting my familiar, so I can become an adult.”

“A familiar is a precious companion and a heavy burden. Their fate shall be bound to yours, your joys, your misfortunes, your secrets, they shall all be theirs as much as yours. Do you still want one?”

“Yes, head priest.”

“Do you promise to care for them? To help them in all their troubles? Do you promise to accept them into your family no matter what? To stand by them no matter what?” the orc’s voice grew louder and heavier, reaching into my very soul.

“I promise.”

“Then reach out to your partner and be reborn in fire!”

The flames filled my vision, their hot touch seeping into my body. I gritted my teeth, holding back the urge to scream. The heat spread across my chest, then to my arms and legs, burning away any resistance in my body. The cackle of flames was the only thing that reached my ears, even my heart had grown silent. A spike of pain rose from my chest, like a dagger piercing the skin from the inside. I opened my lips in a silent scream when another spike struck, this one dragging out for longer. The third time it came, I felt it, a thug at the very center of my being. Deeper than my chest, much deeper than my heart. I held onto that string with my mind and pushed with all my strength. The boom of thunder shook my body and soon I was falling.

A gasp left my body, followed by heavy pants. My eyes opened wide, taking in the priests’ flames, still resting in their hands. Ice ran through my veins, my muscles burned and my teeth were chattering. A series of grunts took me away from my thoughts, my eyes falling down to my arms. Resting on my crossed arms was a bundle of brown fur. A pair of small brown eyes stood over a porcine nose and a pair of small tusks that protruded from their lips. Their eyes called to mine, the pool of brown drawing me in. Shivers ran down my back as a squeak of joy left their lips.

“I did it.” I muttered, cradling my familiar in my arms.


	18. Day 19 - Sweater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Everyone dresses like this now,” she said when she saw my roaming eyes, her arms crossing over her chest.
> 
> I gave her a polite smile, more amused than upset by her reaction. “Well, you should bring this ‘Everyone’ here, I’d love to know more about them.”
> 
> That got a laugh out of her, the melodic sound echoing in the room like it used to so long ago.
> 
> “Grandma, that’s not what I meant. It’s just, this is the fashion. You know, like those puffy dresses you showed me once.”
> 
> “Those were not meant for respectable young women to use.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fifth story of the third batch of Orctober prompts, and, this one holds a special place in my heart, one one hand due to its wholesomeness and on the other hand due to how close it reflects some of my childhood memories. I hope you can enjoy them.
> 
> This one is also part of a series of short stories based on prompts given by Dnddentist . Remember to leave your comments below and to vote if you liked this story.

The pattering of the rain on the tin roof filled the room, cold chill of the air seeping into my bones. The stark gray light of the day passed through the windows and cast a grim glow over everything. Faded pink walls were decorated with pictures of times long gone, forever captured in yellow and black. A soft creak came from the door as it opened and revealed the shape of my granddaughter, a tray with two cups in her hands. I sent a quick smile her way but didn’t stop moving the long needles in my hands, weaving the ocean blue yarn into a new form.

The cups clacked as Clarissa set the tray down of a nearby table, white trails of smoke raising from the dark liquid inside.

“Sorry it took so long grandma, I couldn’t find the matches.” she said with a shy smile on her verdant green face.

“Don’t worry dear, I have trouble finding those matches myself all the time.” I told her with a soft voice, my heart fluttering when her tusks framed a wide smile. _She looks just like his mother._

Clarissa took a seat in the sofa across mine, her slim body sinking into the dark purple cushions. My old heart burned with joy whenever I looked at her, so different from the child she had been and yet, she still had some of that energy of youth in her eyes. She was taller now, close to the one hundred and eighty five meters of her mother but without her girth. Black wavy hair adorned her hair, just like her father. A snow white blouse covered her torso, pink roses doting the fields of white. Her black jeans rode low on her lips, the rough fabric a far cry of what I had worn at her age.

“Everyone dresses like this now,” she said when she saw my roaming eyes, her arms crossing over her chest.

I gave her a polite smile, more amused than upset by her reaction. “Well, you should bring this ‘Everyone’ here, I’d love to know more about them.”

That got a laugh out of her, the melodic sound echoing in the room like it used to so long ago.

“Grandma, that’s not what I meant. It’s just, this is the fashion. You know, like those puffy dresses you showed me once.”

“Those were not meant for respectable young women to use.”

“But you were the one wearing them!” she said with excitement, her finger pointing to a picture in the wall. I didn’t need to turn to know which one it was, the layout of this room as familiar to me as my own body.

“I never said I was a respectable young woman. Your great grandfather sure complained about that a lot.” I shot back with a hint of mischief in my tone before I set aside my work.

“He did? Did he do anything about it?”

“Oh no, he loved to complain but he also loved to see me happy,” I said, my voice growing softer and wistful. “Things were different in those days, our values, our morals, our freedoms, they weren’t as many as they are today. Everyone thought your great grandfather was strange back then, allowing his only daughter to dress as she pleased.”

“Wait, you couldn’t dress like you wanted?” Her eyes grew wide like platters, her hands clutching the borders of her blouse.

“No, you couldn’t, unless your father said you could and mine did.” I shared a conspiratorial look with her, a soft laugh raising from my chest. “He said I should learn how to stand on my own two feet and he always stood by that, whether it was clothes, marriage or life. I, of course, took advantage of that, much to my friends’ shock.”

“And your mom didn’t say anything about that?”

“No, my mom was always more focused on her research than with what I wore. Though, form time to time, she would throw a few remarks of improvements I could make to my dresses and she was almost always right.”

“Almost always?”

I took the cup in my hands, the warmth from the ceramic breathing back life into my aching fingers. I took a sip from the dark liquid before I said, “Unlike what men like to think, we’re not always right. The same applied to my mom.”

Clarissa gave me a quick nod before her own hands went for her cup. A hiss left her lips when her fingers touched the ceramic, a grimace appearing on her face. She didn’t let that stop her, much like her mother, and soon she was taking her first sip of tea. Her shoulders sagging while a soft hum left her throat.

“I hope things are going well with your university.” I said after a couple of minutes of silent drinking.

“Huh? Ah yes, it’s going well. A lot of hard work and sleepless nights, but that’s part of the experience I guess.” resignation clung to her voice, the brown bag under her eyes betraying her tiredness.

“Hmm... I see, just remember to pace yourself. It will be all for nothing if you study until you’re dead.”

“I will grandma, don’t worry.”

“Nope, can’t do. I’m your grandma, I will always worry about you and I will also spoil you.” I said with a firm tone, bringing another laugh out of her.

“You don’t have to grandma.” she said, her cheeks tinting red.

“Oh, but I will. For one, I’m doing this lovely pink sweater just for you. Perfect to keep you warm in cold night and to pick up handsome young men--”  
  
“Grandma!”

“Well, it can also be for beautiful young women, it is very versatile.”

Clarissa hid her face behind her hands, her tea cup dancing dangerously on her lap. I couldn’t hold back the laugh that came from me. The phantom of another orc in the same position danced before my eyes, the sound of that embarrassed voice ringing in my ears.

“Why did you say that? Grandmas are not supposed to say that.”

“Well, when have I ever done things like other people?”


	19. Day 20 - Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death can always come for us. Sometimes it will be fast and painless, sometimes it will drag out for months on end. What will you do when it comes for those around you? Will you run and hide? Will you deny it to the end? Or will you try to make the best of the last moments?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the sixth story from the third batch, the twentieth over all, and so we're reaching the end of this Orctober. I hope you have enjoyed it greatly and that some of these tusked beings have brought a bit of solace in these hard times. This tale may hit close to home for some of you dear readers, so please exercise caution when you read it. This time the focus of the story is loss and, I couldn't help but think of the loss of a loved one to forces we cannot defeat.
> 
> As usual, remember this story is part of a series of short stories based on prompts given by Dnddentist . Remember to leave your comments below and to vote if you liked this story.

The carriage shook as it sped away from the city, the wood groaning with each crack of stone under of feet. The compact wooden chamber inside it showed the signs of bygone wealth. With worn thin curtains that did little to protect us from the sun; the velvet cushions that had grown so flat, they may as well be made of wood and the lines of silver and gold were carved in the wooden walls. This carriage, much like its owner, was a rotting relic of the past and their time was quickly running out. A thick acrid musk hung in the air, a mix of sulfur and piss that made my stomach turn in knots. 

A groan left the old orc’s parched lips, his spider like fingers trying and failing to lift from the seat. in front of me. I dug my hands in my seat, a sour taste spreading in my mouth when my eyes fell on the skeletal orc. His once forest green skin had grown darker, spattered by spots of sickly brown and pale white. The wrinkled skin hung limply from his bones, so different from the muscles that had once carried me on his shoulders. His white shirt hung loosely from his frame, transparent with sweat. His bald head moved to the side, lost dark brown eyes set on the orc by her side, begging. 

“Dad, please hold on, we’re almost there, just hold on,” my mom said, tears freely running down her face as she held a wrinkled hand in her own. 

It was hard to see my mom like this, her small frame lacking its usual vigor. Her olive skin pale and dry, wrinkles of worry forming on her round face. Her black wavy hair hung in a unruly mess over her shoulders instead of the usual neat bun she preferred. Dark splotches of tears were scattered over her light green blouse and brown trousers. 

I took her trembling hand into mine, rough fingers tracing circles on the back of her hand before I leaned in and whispered. “It’s okay mom, I’m here for you.”

She gave me a quick nod, her heartbroken eyes meeting mine while her lips trembled with barely controlled emotion. Daggers sunk into my heart, my throat grew dry, each breath feeling like I was swallowing blades. I gave her a reluctant smile, squeezing her hand in comfort. 

Grandpa’s breath hitched, painful squeaks coming from his throat while his lips struggled to form words. Mom held back her sobs and her body trembled against mine. I couldn’t begin to wonder how she felt, the mere thought of seeing her body in the same position conjured a heavy weight on my chest. I’ll have a long time to get used to that thought. Immediately hate flared up in my heart, hate at myself for thinking that and at the situation for forcing me into it.

“Dahiny, dahiny...” muttered the old orc, his raspy voice broken up by heavy breaths, “where, where are we?”

“I’m here Dad, I’m here. We’re on the carriage, remember? We’re going to the lake, like we used to when I was a kid.” 

The rocking of the wheels on the road were her only answers, grandpa’s eyes growing wider and unfocused. 

“Mellinda, where’s Mellinda?”

Mom clenched my hand tightly, the name of my late grandmother robbing the little color she had on her face. I leaned forward, knowing I had to be strong for mom, and said. “She’s at the lake house, waiting for us.”

“Who, who are you?” 

“Your grandson, Aristides.”

“I have a, a grandson?” the trembling of his voice ignited the fire in my stomach and I had to fight back the urge to bare my tusks in defiance.

“You have several, more than twenty last time we counted. They’re all waiting for you at the lake.” The little lie wouldn’t hurt him, not when he was so far gone. My mom grew still next to me, sobs breaking in her throat. “But you stay awake grandpa, they’ll be very disappointed if you fall asleep.”

“I’m tired, so tired.”

“I know, I know. But you must keep awake just for a bit longer, for them.”

His bald head gave us a minute nod before he turned his gaze back to the roof of the carriage, a smile turning up his lips. I tore my gaze away, the husk of my loving grandfather too much to bear. My eyes fell instead to the green plains that rushed by the window, the wide hills on the distance telling me we were getting closer to our goal. I prayed we would get there in time. 

There were no more words exchanged for several minutes, the weight of the whole situation suffocated me and I could already feel the beginnings of a headache when mom broke the silence.

“There’s no one at the lake, they can’t make it there in time.” 

A gave her a reluctant smile, my heart torn between hope and practicality. The latter won out in the end. 

“They don’t need to be there, he just needs to see them there one last time.” I said with cold detachment, purple sparks dancing on my fingers. 

My mom’s eyes widened, her lips hiding the base of her tusks. Conflict danced on her eyes. 

“Will it hurt him?”

“No, it’ll be the best illusion I ever made. He won’t feel a thing out of place.” 

The carriage came to a stop a couple of minutes later, the horses neighing tiredly at the front. I pushed the door open, the clean air of the lake filling my nose. My grandfather’s voice grew louder, his incoherent mumbles sending my heart racing. I shared a look with my mom, fear clear in her eyes, before we set into motion. My arms sneaked under the old orc’s arm, and with an ease that frightened me, I lifted him against my chest. Mom’s arm closed around the blanket wrapping his legs, her strong arms tensing in preparation. Together, we took the dying orc out of the carriage. 

Daniel joined moments later, the heavy set orc taking over me. His dark green skin was like grandpa’s had once been, his watery eyes shone with the same brown. His shirt and trousers were a mess, wrinkled and brown with dirt, but there had been no time to dress up when death came calling. Sobs came from my mom and my cousin as they took the my grandfather to the lake’s shore.T here was only one thing left to fulfill his final request. 

“Are we there yet?” grandpa’s raspy voice rose above the sobs, the strength of his voice reminding me of the man I had admired for so long. 

Neither Daniel nor mom could answer, their face set in guilty grimaces. I took over them, my voice hard like steel. “Not yet grandpa, just a bit more. The others can’t wait to see you.”

He mumbled a reply, but I didn’t catch it, my mind already running wild with the formulas for the spell. A high pitched squeak filled my ears as purple sparks danced on my fingers. The energizing flow of magic danced through my body while my hands traced the necessary symbols in the air. In my mind, I painted the illusion I wanted the orc to see. The vast lake extending before him, the orange rays of the sun bathing the silver waters. The orc himself would be standing proud on his legs, dressed in the blue jacket and yellow trousers he had liked so much. All his family, dead or alive, would stand around him, their excited voices reaching his ears, his memory filling any blanks I had left. 

My eyes shot open, the world tinted purple. I saw grandpa sitting on the shore, supported by mom and Daniel. Words crackled out of my lips, ancient and powerful. Words of joy, words of shape, words of lies and words of rest. My magic gathered in my hands and with one final word, they shot towards the old orc, preparing him for his last dream.

“Goodbye, grandpa.”


	20. Day 21 - Skull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A strong breeze hit the hyena man, clearing up the mist in a circle between the hyena and the skull. The flames shone bright one last time before they were snuffed by the winds. In their stead stood a short orc, thick muscles showing from under his heavy metal armor. Ocean blue skin proudly presented dozens of scars under the pale light of the moon, the proof of his warrior life. Pudgy cheeks highlighted the series of gold piercings on his nose and his blood red eyes shone with confusion. 
> 
> “Welcome back to the world of the living Draven Logan Ara’den Ondor.” Lucian said with a cheery tone, his pipe resting on his fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have reached the seventh short story of the third batch, only 4 more left. This time, we're tackling death once more, because it was heavily on my mind when I wrote the last one. Lucian Basken, resourceful hyena necromancer has been hired for another job, this time far away from civilization, let's hope he came prepared this time too.
> 
> This one is part of a series of short stories based on prompts given by Dnddentist . Remember to leave your comments below and to vote if you liked this story.

Lucian Basken stood among the misty fields, his long black coat blowing with the cold winds. The lanky hyena-like man stared into the mist, dozens of battles dancing before his silver eyes while the souls of fallen warriors claimed for mercy. A growl rose on his throat minutes later, the beginnings of a headache already showing. 

“You’re not going to make this easy, are you?” said Lucian to himself, baring his fangs at the mist. 

The hyena man drew a long wooden pipe from one of his pockets and a tightly wound packet from another. He grumbled under his breath as he held the pipe in his gaunt muzzle while his glove-clad fingers made short work of the packet. With slow, measured moves, Lucian poured the parcel’s contents into the end of his pipe, purple flames raising high seconds later. The first puff of smoke that Lucian inhaled burned his mouth, leaving the sickeningly sweet taste of the herbs in his tongue. The second one made his eyes water, thin trails of thick gray smoke raising before his eyes. With the third one, the world twisted around him, the voices of the dead growing stronger and clearer. 

A thin gloved hand dug into the bag hanging by his waist and after a few moments of search, withdrew a polished humanoid skull. Large tusks protruded from the wide square mandible while empty eye sockets glanced longingly at the hyena. 

Lucian let the smoke leave his lips, feeling the thrumming of magic under his skin. He took another puff of his pipe, holding the skull up to his eyes. With fire dancing in his veins, Lucian blew the smoke towards the skull, awakening the purple fire in the empty sockets. They hyena man cackled when the skull rose from his hand, the sound reaching beyond the mist and into the world of the dead. 

Fire spread all over the skull that floated a few meters away from the hyena. The rumble of thunder shook the hyena before a cold pressure made its home in his lungs. Lucian took another puff from his pipe, steeling his resolve for the next part of the spell. Shivers ran down his spine when the sound of breaking glass brought him out of his mind. The purple fire from the skull had expanded downwards, forming a ghostly spine. From it a myriad of tubes shot forward, spreading the flame all around it until the vague shape of a humanoid body could be seen. The wizard grunted, the cold in his chest spreading as the spell drained his reserves. 

A strong breeze hit the hyena man, clearing up the mist in a circle between the hyena and the skull. The flames shone bright one last time before they were snuffed by the winds. In their stead stood a short orc, thick muscles showing from under his heavy metal armor. Ocean blue skin proudly presented dozens of scars under the pale light of the moon, the proof of his warrior life. Pudgy cheeks highlighted the series of gold piercings on his nose and his blood red eyes shone with confusion. 

“Welcome back to the world of the living Draven Logan Ara’den Ondor.” Lucian said with a cheery tone, his pipe resting on his fingers. 

The orc’s eyes opened wider, his hands flying towards his chest, right to the hole in his armor. His mouth formed an “o”, not a single sound escaping his lips while his eyes glowed with vestiges of purple fire. A trembling dark blue finger plunged into the hole, easily piercing deep into the orc’s chest. 

“Am I...dead?” said the orc with a deep voice, a faint echo following his every word.

“I’m afraid so, but it is an inevitable end for us all.” 

“And the battle? Who won the battle? What happened with the war?!” The orc shouted, his boulder sized hands coursing through the air with nervous energy.

The hyena man stared at those blood red eyes, a cool calm reflecting in his silver eyes. “Lost. Your army was routed but the losses incurred by the other side were much bigger than they expected. They surrendered a couple of months later, after having lost all the terrain they had conquered.”

“Then, we won?”

“Depends on how you look at it. Your side lost many brave souls and your economy suffered for many years. But your actions did stop the invasion and led to the eventual ruin of that Empire.”

“That Empire? What do you mean by that hyena? There’s only been one Empire in the history of our lands!” 

“That was true three hundred years ago, old warrior. It is no longer so.”

The orc deflated at those words, his large hands falling by his side. Lucian took a few more puffs of his pipe, giving the warrior room to think, to grieve.

“Then, all I did. All my battles, even my death, was it all in vain?” shouted the orc, his voice like thunder.

“No, I wouldn’t go that far. Your actions saved many lives. Your family still lives and it was them who sent me here. For you.”

That gave pause to Draven, his eyes narrowing. “What do you want from me?”

“It’s not what I want from you. It’s what you can get from me. Rest, peace, transcendence. However you want to call it, I can help you achieve it.”

“And I’m to believe you’re doing this out of the goodness of your heart? That you won’t curse my soul?”

“No. Your family paid for my services, handsomely. The skull I used should be proof enough, do you think they would have handed it just to anyone.” 

The large orc closed his eyes, his arms crossing over his chest. Silence reigned for a few seconds, the warmth of the smoke seeping into Lucian’s lungs. 

“And what would I need to do if I took you up on your offer?” the orc said with doubt clinging to his voice.

A smile appeared on the hyena’s lips, his eyes glinting like gems. “Just answer a few questions and keep an open mind. The rest is magic.”


	21. Day 22 - Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Einar held to the comfort of the music, letting his fingers fly over the keys. At first there were only shy notes, pushing their heads out of the large tubes above the orc's head but soon, they became a flood of music. The sadness and happiness of his memories harmonized into a bitter sweet melody, each hand adding their own touch to the tale. The strength of every note revealing more about himself than he could ever do with words. It was maddening and liberating, an exercise at navigating the tumultuous seas of his heart. 
> 
> And a single voice broad it all to an end.
> 
> "I never understood why you loved that song."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuing with the theme of Death we have the twenty second short story for this orctober. This one is part of a series of short stories based on prompts given by Dnddentist . Remember to leave your comments below.

Einar let his fingers glide over the smooth surface, the black sheen of the organ bringing a smile between his tusks. A strong pressure settled on his chest as tears framed the bottom of his eyes. The copper skinned orc let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, his clean aquamarine shirt straining to hold his bulk.

The thick scent of sandalwood filled his nose, bringing back memories of times he had thought forgotten. The days laughing and singing in the old temple flashed before his eyes. The strong scent of solvent tickled his nose, conjuring the summers spent painting cream walls and stone statues. The coldness seeped into his bones as he recalled the winters forced to huddle on the wooden benches, a thick blanket and a warm body the only thing keeping him away from death. They're just memories, they can't hurt you. Remember where you are, what you have done. Einar closed his eyes and took deep breaths, banishing the memories to the back of his mind. Faint shivers ran over his skin like ants, the pressure on his chest crushing his heart. 

The orc hugged himself with his meaty arms, his tongue tasting ashes and blood. Einar regretted visiting the temple after so long, every statue, every wall and the very air tore at his heart. Memories and feelings clashed inside him. Joy and sadness, envy and regret, anger and fear. Yet, as much as the orc's heart pulled him towards the large double doors at the end of the room, his duty rooted him in place. All due to one letter, a single piece of paper that had both shattered his heart and lifted the pieces towards the sky. 

Acid ate away at Einar's throat, the familiar push of reflux making the orc's back grow tense like a bowstring. Cold sweat ran down his back, the still silence of the temple taking his heart to places he loathed revisiting. He just wished it all could end. A single look towards his clock quickly put an end to that thought, the traitorous hands showing there were still over fifteen minutes until the time they had agreed upon. Fire churned in his gut, urging him to flee and never speak of this ti anyone. 

His duty won out in the end. He sat on the cushioned bench and with reverence lifted the heavy piece of wood that covered the organ's keys. They shone like pearls and onyx, still aa lively as he remembered them. Trembling fingers caressed their surface, greeting them like old friends. The song came into his mind like a summer breeze, blowing away any worries. His fingers pushed down on the smooth surfaces, the gentle rumble of the organ reaching his ears. 

Einar held to the comfort of the music, letting his fingers fly over the keys. At first there were only shy notes, pushing their heads out of the large tubes above the orc's head but soon, they became a flood of music. The sadness and happiness of his memories harmonized into a bitter sweet melody, each hand adding their own touch to the tale. The strength of every note revealing more about himself than he could ever do with words. It was maddening and liberating, an exercise at navigating the tumultuous seas of his heart. 

And a single voice broad it all to an end.

"I never understood why you loved that song." said a high falsetto behind him, a hint of irritation carried in their tone.

Einar's fingers crashed down on the keys, the agonizing wail of the organ reflected his own heart. Morosely, the orc stood orc and close the organ. His mandible was tense, the licking of fire on his throat blocking his words. It took all of Einar's will to turn around, his eyes holding a sinister glint.

"I see you made yourself at home." said the old human woman, her lithe frame covered by the thick robes of a priestess. Pale white skin was mostly hidden beneath the light blue fabric, leaving only her hands and face uncovered.

Those icy blue eyes pierced into Einar's being like they had done when he was young, unforgiving and demanding.

The orc's hands clenched at his side, his lips trembling with the urge to bare his tusks but he wouldn't fall that low. Not in front of her. With his vibrant tenor he said, "you were nowhere to be found."

"Hmph, a likely tale. I'm sure you didn't even try calling out my name"

"We're in a temple."

"At least something stuck with you."

Einar was glad for the couple of meters that separated them because they hid the trembling of his hands and the low growl in his throat.

"Why did you call me here?" said Einar at last, his voice sharp like daggers.

"It wasn't out of my own desire but as you know, I'm a woman of my word."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning I promised your sister I'd hand this to you in her deathbed, and so I shall" she plucked a yellowish envelope from beneath her robes, a red seal resting on its center.

Einar voice broke as he said, "then Airin is..."

"Death and buried as the faith required. You can find her on the ivory road, beneath the pear tree," was the priestess cold reply. 

"Just like she wanted." the orc said with a haunted tone, the room seeming gloomier in his eyes.

"Just like she wanted." 

Tears fell down the orc's face as he took the letter from the human, the roughness of paper scratching his skin. He parted his lips, a grunt of pain escaping before could stop it. 

"Was she in pain when she....?" Einar couldn't finish the question, his throat clogged with emotion. 

The human's face softened with compassion, her ever present frown replaced with a quivering lip. 

"She was at peace in her final moments, both with the Gods and with her own body. She passed away dreaming," the priestess said before she left the temple, her icy blue eyes filled with unshed tears. 

Einar watched her go, his body frozen like rock. There was a great emptiness in his chest, an insistent numbness that spread over his limbs and brought him clashing down onto his knees. Warm tears cascaded down his face while heartbroken sobs reached his ears. He was alone.


	22. Day 23 - Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good intentions don't always translate to good deeds. No matter how much we wish to protect something, we may end up destroying it ourselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only two more to go and this batch will reach an end. This one was a weird one to write, the idea was only half formed when I started writing it but the ending quickly came to mind, I only needed to fill in the middle. I hope I did I good job at that.
> 
> This one is part of a series of short stories based on prompts given by Dnddentist . Remember to leave your comments below

I stared at the enveloped on top of my wooden desk, cold sweat running down my back. It was such a simple thing, like the hundreds I received every year and yet, the sight of those elegant black letters, the curves that signature took on the edges of the envelope, it was enough to freeze my body. My throat grew dry, each breath like a rain of knives on the soft tissue. I dismissed my secretary with a impatient gesture, the click clack of her hooves ringing through the room as she hurried out of the door, my bared tusks probably helping transmit the sense of urgency. The door slammed shut and silence reigned supreme in the chamber, impersonal and unbearable. 

The silver light of the day broke through the windows, the thick curtains shifted to the edges of the frames. Without my secretary at her desk, there was a stark emptiness in the office. The spartan decoration, or lack thereof in this case reminding me how precarious my position was. Besides the desks and their accompanying chairs, there was little in the room: only a single shelf filled with papers and notebooks and a worn sofa that had seen better days. There were no paintings, no carvings or strings, no decorations to tell I had been in this very same office for close to five years now. It had all been a precaution in case a letter such as this one arrived but, despite myself and the constant vigilance I had had at the beginning, I had slipped, grown used to the slow movements of life in the border cities. 

With trembling green hands, I lifted the letter to my eyes, the tough paper scratching my hands and setting into motions the cogs in my brain. This close to me, there was no mistaking the penmanship nor the subtle clues embedded into the letters: the curves of the “s”s, the harshness of the “t”s, the roundness of the “o”s that was so similar to the “a”s. They all joined together to form a single message, one that brought rotten taste to my mouth. I turned around the letter, revealing the purple wax seal I had once used myself, the crossed tusk embedded upon it, threw lead into my gut and stole a gasp from my lips. 

The letter fell on the desk without a sound, the purple wax denouncing my cowardice. I tore my gaze away. The memories of my old life, my worse life flashed before my eyes, squeezing my heart. My hands flew to my chest, my breathing coming out in hitched breaths while tears danced at the edges of my vision. My body shook all over, a pair of silver lifeless eyes stared at me from the window, judging me like they always did at night. 

I threw open the bottom drawer from the desk, the bottles inside clinking against each other. I didn’t even look as my fingers closed around the first one they found, a quick pop sent the smell of alcohol and whiskey up my nose. The liquid burned my throat as I chugged the contents of the bottle, the cold of my limbs diminished by the warm buzz of the beverage. It took a few more swigs of the foul liquid before I worked up the courage to look at the letter again. Another couple set the sharp letter-opener in my hands and with a decisive cut, the envelope’s contents fell upon the desk. 

The copper coin was the first to cast my attention, the bust of an old bull on its surface bringing a from to my face. My suspicions were confirmed when the other side held the vague shape of a mountain, the very same ones I had escaped through. The dried up flower made my throat close up, the image of a young orc girl dancing in front of my eyes. My fist hit the table with a loud thud, the spike of pain helping me organize my thoughts. The ferrous taste of blood filled my mouth when I bit my lip, my trembling hands rising up to grasp the single piece of paper left to check. My eyes eat up the words, each sentence digging daggers into my chest. A cry left my mouth when I reached the end of the letter, tears falling down my face.

Dead, she’s dead. Oh Gods she’s dead. the thought repeated in my mind over and over again, while the tears let on to full fledged sobs. My body shook all over, my will unraveling inside me and with it my emotions.

She can’t be dead, she can’t, it must be a mistake. The dreadful black words echoed in my ears in her soft voice, an edge of accusation to her tone. I can’t lose her, I promised I wouldn’t fail.

“But you did. You weren’t here when I needed you.” the voice whispered in my ears, her cold embrace closing around my neck. “I cried out for you. Sent hundreds of letters until the quill fell of my numb fingers.”

“I did all this to protect you. It was too dangerous for me to remain by your side.” I shouted back, sending the chair crashing when I stood up.

“And so I died alone, in a remote village where no one knew my name. Buried in an unmarked grave.”

“That’s not what I wanted, it was only going to be a couple of years!”

“Instead they were five and you didn’t write once!” her voice rose, drowning everything else. 

“It was too dangerous.”

“Everything was too dangerous for you. But what about me? It was your actions that pushed me away, your plans that sent me to that awful place, your contacts that kept me under watch and your money that kept me afloat.”

“How did you--”

“It was obvious, the money always came on the twenty first of every month, in bundles of 25 bills, exactly, every time. That’s something only you do. That was my only bond to you, but now, now we’ll be together, forever.”

The whiskey bottle fell from the table, shattering on the ground next to my feet, just like my heart.


	23. Day 24 - Darling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love can be a powerful thing, nurtured over the years. It can make time fly and your heart soar. And sometimes, that's all you need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second to last story of this batch is here and, unlike the previous one, this one doesn't feature death. Instead we will be focusing on a pair of lovebirds. I took heavy inspiration of Morticia and Gomez Addams's relationship, because let's be real, their relationship is among the best there are. As usual, this one is part of a series of short stories based on prompts given by Dnddentist . Remember to leave your comments below and to vote if you liked this story.

Their thick arms wrapped around me, the warmth of his body pouring through my coat. They pulled me towards them while a soft rumble shook their body. I leaned back against them, the tension on my back melting in their warm embrace. Surrounded by their big body, their earthy musk waltzed into my nose and invited me to forget about the stress of the day. My thin hands rose to caress the rough green skin of their hands, softly tracing a path from their knuckles to their wrist. A gasp left my lips when two cold points pressed against my neck, followed by a huff of hot air. I closed my eyes and tilted my head to the side, allowing them to plant a soft kiss on my neck. Shivers ran down my spine at the contact, every hair on my body standing with anticipation. A second kiss soon followed and then a third, their hands keeping my upright as my legs shook like jelly. 

“I missed you,” I said when they pulled back, their hot breath tickling my skin.

“I missed you too,” they rumbled, cradling me against their chest. 

My hand traced the shape of their arm and neck, sinking into their curtain of silky hair. Curious fingers twirled errand locks of hair around them, smoothing them out until the fell over their chest and my shoulder. A soft laugh rocked their chest, their arms moving lower to take a gentle hold of my hips. I opened my eyes and lazily took in the sight before me. A large crystal panel reflected our forms, their large bulky one covered by a brown gown that brought out the glow of their skin, and my own small slim form clad in a loose dark red suit and matching red trousers. Both a gift from them for our first date anniversary.

“It brings out your eyes.” they had said when they gave it to me, a big tusked smile on their face. It seemed only fitting to use them for our first date in a long time. 

Bluish black hair blocked my vision as they leaned in over me, their breath brushing my lips. My hand pulled on their neck and I breached the distance between us. The steel caps of their tusk glinted at the edges of my vision before our lips met. Rough on soft, bone on flesh. Sparks danced on my lips, their hands tightened around my waist. My heart skipped a beat and shivers ran down my spine. They broke the chaste kiss with a gasp, their eyes glinting with yearning. 

“We should go. We’re going to be late at this rate,” they whispered, their voice thick and heavy. 

I pushed back their curtain of hair behind their ear, revealing their beautiful brown eyes. Their silver capped tusks framed a peaceful smile while their broad nose twitched with impatience. 

“I’m sure we could make time for some loving.” I turned around in their grip, sepia fingers lovingly caressed their cheeks. “This is a night for us after all. The restaurant is only a formality cariño.”

A thunder like rumble came from his chest, hitched breaths coming out of their mouth. Their jaw tensed, idle thumbs tracing circles over my waist. A spicy scent joined their musk, fiery and potent, a physical expression of their love and desire. It called to me, drew me in to their hopeful face and their painted gold lips.

“Maybe it is but I still want to spoil you. A good dinner, an awesome show, a quiet walk through the streets, the neon lights of the city watching over us.” they said with an excited tone, their musk growing heavier by the second.

“A quick flight over the lake, soft music coming from the speakers. Your hand holding mine as we remember our first years together.”

A silly smile broke on their face while their fingers left my hips and moved further back. Their meaty fingers danced across my back, their soft push against my skin forcing the stress out of my muscles.

“You were so dashing back them, shining like a star,” they rumbled, love clinging to their words.

“And pulled me to you like gravity, with your charming smile and beautiful words.”

“Can I have one more kiss before we go?”

My hands slipped down to their shoulders, their body tense under my touch. I rose to the tips of my feet, my lips barely reaching their chin. With a purr in my voice, I said, “You can have as many as you want.”

They trembled under me, puffs of hot air leaving their green nose. Their big head leaned down and I closed my eyes. Their rough lips met mine, their touch desperate and urgent. My fingers dug into his shoulders, my blood singing with joy. Their lips opened, their tongue brushed against my lips. The moments my lips parted, their tongue sneaked inside. A low moan came from them as our tongues shared a brief dance. 

They pushed me back softly, a gasp leaving my lips as our kiss broke. Lust danced in their brown orbs and my pounding heart begged for more. I leaned in for one more kiss but they gentle pushed me back.

“Later, after we have dinner.” they said with a strained voice, the strength of their musk betraying their excitement. 

“Very well, I’ll be looking forward to it mi corazón de melón,” I told them as I pushed past them with a slight sway to my hips, the rumble that followed telling me they had noticed. 

“It’ll be a magical night darling. I promise.” 

The click clack of heels accompanied us out of our apartment into the sterile white corridor, the whoosh of air announcing our departure. They hooked my arm with theirs, their big fingers swallowing mine. My lips curled into a smile, the soothing buzz of love coursing through my veins as we walked down the hallway into a night that promised many surprises.


	24. Day 25 - Cozy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A good fire in the hearth, delicious wine in a glass and a big burly orc to keep you company. That's the recipe for a marvelous weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With this story, we bring the third batch to a close, leaving only 6 more stories to this Orctober collection. This one in specific could only be made by the helpful suggestions of avatar?user=345062&character=0&clevel=2 FabulousMoose thanks for the help big bear, I hope you can enjoy this one. This one is part of a series of short stories based on prompts given by Dnddentist . Remember to leave your comments below and to vote if you liked this story.

Fire cackled before the large bear, the reds, oranges and yellows of the flame eating away the lumber in the hearth. Thick white fur clashed with the rug’s own brown as the chubby bear laid on his side. Not a piece of clothing hid his figure, the mounds and valleys of his body bare for all to see. A pleased smirk adorned the bear’s muzzle, his cotton like tail wagging happily behind him. The roaring winds that hit the window made the ursine ears twitch, a pleased hum coming from the wide neck. 

The bear’s eyes slowly traced the vast room, his muscles aching from the harsh climb of the day. Dark brown wooden walls rose around him, tall but welcoming. Dozens of framed pictures spread all over their surfaces, some the bear recognized having seen the original landscapes just a few hours ago but others, mostly those filled with bulky orcs, remained a mystery to him. A few windows showed the ivory storm that raged outside, the darkness of the night making it hard to distinguish anything beyond the cabin. The bear thanked his lucky star for making good time on the hike and quickly resumed his perusal. His eyes moved from the walls to the furniture sprawled over the rough wooden floor. They were all rustic but sturdy, made for persons much larger and heavier than him. Following the unspoken theme of the cabin, they were all made out of wood and leather. Just like the sofas that framed the bear upon the rug he laid on. At a glance they looked comfortable and warm, but the bear knew well they were hard and cold from his first foray into the room. The bear took a deep breath, the scent of leather, sweat and age hung heavy in the air, and it made the bear wonder just how many times his host had brought people here and how many others had done the same.

The bear’s musings were interrupted by heavy footfalls, his round ears twitching at the sound. With a lazy move brought by relaxation, the bear turned his head towards the far end of the room, where a large frame led to broad hallway. There stood a heavy set orc with a mane of dark auburn hair, dark green skin bulging with muscles. His red plaid shirt strained to contain his hearty gut while his black furred trousers hugged his thick calves. Spires of ivory rose from his bottom lips to form tusks, proudly decorated with rings of silver. Friendly gold eyes met the bear’s dark brown ones, the relaxed smile on his face reflecting on those honest orbs. The clinking of glass brought the bear’s attention to the meaty fingers balancing a pair of delicate wine glasses in one hand and a dark green bottle in the other.

“Found them and I see you made yourself at home.”

“Once the fire was going, I couldn’t resist.”

“It’s good to know we’re of the same mind then. But I think I’ll need some help with my own clothes, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, not at all.”

The orc’s hulking form sat by the bear’s side, the floor trembling under his weight. The strong smell of alcohol filled the air when green fingers made quick work of the cork. Dark red liquid poured into one of the glasses, the underlying rich earthy aroma tickling the bear’s nose. The white bruin took the offered cup gently, sparks running over his skin where their fingers met. The large orc let out a gasp while a playful smile crossed the bear’s muzzle. The orc gulped loudly, his cheeks tinting a soft red as he proceeded to fill his own cup. Their glasses clinked when they tapped them softly, the red liquid sloshing inside. The first sip brought a smile from them both, a low groan leaving the ursine muzzle when the strong sweet taste of the wine woke up his taste buds. The second sip brought a growl from the large orc, his eyes glinting with nerves and desire. The third sip, rounded the experience, spreading the gentle warm of the drink around their bellies. 

“Do you like it?” The orc rumbled after a few seconds of silence, a hopeful tone in his voice.

“Yes. I do. It’s been a while since I had anything this good.” the bear replied with a pleased growl, tail wagging happily behind him. 

A smile broke out in the green face, his body leaned forward unconsciously, seeking the bruin’s warmth. 

“It was worth the climb, then? No regrets?”

“Oh I don’t know, there was this big orc claiming we were going to have such a good time,” white furred fingers landed on the orc’s chest, tracing gentle circles over the big pecs, “but he still has all this pesky clothing on him?”

“Ah, and this orc, is he big and strong?” a mischievous glint shone in the orc’s eyes, his hands setting his cup by his side, next to the bottle. 

“Yes, he’s very big, about your height, with such thick arms and solid pecs.”

The orc’s pecs bounced under the bear’s fingers, a cocky grin appearing on the tusked face. “Like these?”

“Exactly like those, you may know him after all.” Quick fingers popped three buttons from the plaid shirt, revealing the forest of red hair beneath it.

“Yes, I may know him, you naughty bear.”

“You do? Then, do you think he will show me the promised good time?” the bruin replied with mock concern, his dick rising from his loins. 

Large orc hands snuck under the bear’s chin, lifting it up so their eyes could met. Lust danced in both of them, the air heavy with their combined musk. A rough thumb caressed the ivory chin, the orc’s large body looming over the bear’s.

“I think he will after a few cups, if a certain bear is okay with that.”

“And if he were?”

“Then, I’d ask if I could kiss you.”

“You may,” said the bear with a husky voice.

The orc’s lips met with the bear’s own, the tusks and muzzles forcing the two to find a compromise between passion and convenience. The bear groaned when the orc sucked at his lips, his body shivered when warm hands caressed his plum stomach and were it no for quick reflexes, his cup may have fallen from his hand. The kiss was broken moments later, the bear’s eyes catching the tented bulge in the orc’s pants. 

“Are you still up for it?” the orc asked with a rumble, golden eyes full of life and desire. The bear couldn’t help but shudder, his mind running with ideas of what those big hands could do. 

“After a few glasses, yeah.”

“We got all weekend and there’s a storm outside.”

“You master plan has been revealed.”

“What can I say? I have a weakness for handsome orcs.”

“Excellent, I have a weakness for sexy bears.”


	25. Day 26 - Swing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trumpets blared in across the crowded room, announcing the start of the show. The light of the restaurant dimmed down, leaving only small candles on each table as the sole source of light. The drums joined in, their beats cascading like a waterfall. Together, both instruments started to weave a strong song of life in the city and nights lost on love. The notes brought a smile to many of the patrons, the melody carrying their problems away for a few minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With this, we begin the last batch of orctober stories. It's been a hard if brief month, trying to write all these stories in time to celebrate this month. At this point, the file where I wrote these stories has a whooping 31.099 words, much more than I have ever written in a month. A true achievement for me. As we look towards the end of this month and truly, the end of this harsh year, I want to thank all of you who accompanied me on this little trip through many worlds, your words of encouragement and joy were a good reward for all this hard work. You have my deepest gratitude. I hope these short stories provided a much needed break from all that's going on and perhaps a bit of hope for the future.
> 
> Now, let's talk a bit about this story. It will be a strange one I imagine, I had a bit of trouble finding out a story I wanted to tell when it came to swing and after asking a lot of friends for help, I ended up going with my gut and sticking to swing as music. I wanted to share with you how it feels to have a song that gets you, that surrounds you with its note and lifts you off after you fell. At least that was my intent, what came out is probably still rough and in need of work. Remember to leave your thoughts and comments below and I hope you can find some joy out of these last stories.

The trumpets blared in across the crowded room, announcing the start of the show. The light of the restaurant dimmed down, leaving only small candles on each table as the sole source of light. The drums joined in, their beats cascading like a waterfall. Together, both instruments started to weave a strong song of life in the city and nights lost on love. The notes brought a smile to many of the patrons, the melody carrying their problems away for a few minutes.

Up in the stage, over polished wood and a cheap burgundy carpet, the mixed species band kept on with their show. The twin bull trumpeters poured their heart out with their energetic songs, their wild brown fur covering everything but their nose and horns. Next to them,a gray rhino answered every one of their musical barbs with a strong beat of his drums. Under the bright yellow lights of the stage, the rhino’s pink suit and polished ivory horns stood out like a ruby, his mischievous energy igniting the hearts of their audience.

All the eyes in the bar fell on the stage when the smooth cries of a saxophone joined the fray. Weaving between her companions note, the saxophone-playing hyena brought long notes and order to the chaotic melody of her friends. The audience was quick to catch on the change in the music, their hearts not longer pounding against their chest while bittersweet regret lingered on their tones. There was now a lighter air to the song, a soft padding to its call. The many patrons leaned forward, their eyes and ears focused solely on the stage. Their drinks were forgotten over wooden tables, their companions hidden by the darkness of the room.

The saxophonist took the lead, her dark blue suit giving a green glow to her light gray fur. Her melody rose high, her notes carrying across the room with perfect clarity. Under her command, the rest of the band felt in line, their notes and beats turning into a friendly bickering. The smell of fire and ashes spread to the room as thin tendrils of smoke rose from the center of the stage. Worried murmurs spread through the new comers while the regulars’ eyes shone with expectation. The trumped gave a final wait before the light went out above them, their notes swiftly extinguished. The scent of smoke grew thicker, small clouds rising from the floor at the beat marked by the rhino. The hyena’s sax grew in strength, its notes no longer undermined by the trumpets. Like a wave, the sax song rose, building up momentum. The patrons stared with wide eyes, their hands and feet following the rhythm maker by the rhino while their minds were consumed by the hyena’s melody.

The patrons let out a collective gasp when the song came to an abrupt end, the lights of the stage going dark. Silence reigned for a couple of seconds, the audience minds catching up with the change. They didn’t have a chance. Crimson like poured over the stage floor like a river, spreading out until it fell of the edges. From behind a curtain of smoke stepped out a single figure. His body was like a boulder, tall and heavy, dark green skin absorbing covered by a suave white shirt and plaid gray pants. Twin spires of ivory rose from his bottom lip, framed with a reddish glow. More than one patron gulped, the orc’s size commanding respect from everyone in the room.

The orc broke the silence moments later, his deep raspy voice booming across the room.

“Oh, my evening star. You rocked my heart. Oh my evening star, you lit up my life.” the orc sang, his tone carrying the salty melancholy of heartbreak.

The sax jumped into the orc’s lament, its swift low notes harmonizing with the orc’s own rumble. The lights over the hyena lit up again. Dimmer, gloomier. Like the distant years of childhood.

“What shall I do now that you’ve gone? Where shall I go? When can I rest? When everything reminds me of you.”

The glinting of ivory horns filled came from the stage, announcing the return of the bulls and rhino. Like a well oiled machine, the remaining band members joined the song, their energy lifting up the somber mood cast by the orc. The orc swung his luscious black mane at the beat of the drums.

“So I’ll say goodbye to the city. Goodbye to the dreams of old.” continued the orc, picking up speed. His tone tugging at the strings of the audience, from those nursing old wounds to those sporting recent ones.

“And I’ll go west, beyond the sea. Oh my evening star, I’ll go west.”

The orc’s eyes misted up, his voice belting out the last notes of the chorus. The smoke died out under him, like a dream forgotten in the morning. The bulls trumpet took over the melody, trading quick blast of notes, like friends over glasses of beer. The sax was quick to join in, with self deprecating notes that mixed flawlessly into the trumpet’s melody.

A quick image formed in the patrons’ minds, of the whole band gathered around a table, sharing their woes over tall glasses full of dark liquid. The taste of alcohol lingered on their tongue, the notes brought out the pain coiling over their heart. The more they watched, the more clearly they saw it all. They thick earthy scent of smoke pushed into their nose, the image of the orc dancing over their eyes. The blasts of the trumpets were like the rumbling laughs those bulls would share. The rhino’s beats were the countless barbs he would throw at his mates and the supportive pats he would deal when the tears came out. And keeping them all in line, was the hyena, her sax sounding like the friendly advice you needed after a long night.

Time grew still while band kept playing, captivated as well by the harmony of their song. The orc’s words all blurred into one another, forming a constant rumbled that shook the patrons to their core. While the rest of the band drew them in deeper and deeper into a simpler world, a kinder world. One where music connected the souls and pain was just a note. And until the last note rang across the room, the patrons’ worries faded away.


	26. Day 27 - Dessert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ideas racing through his brain, the steady breathing reaching his ears, exhausted limbs begging for mercy. It was a perfect recipe for another sleepless night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second story of the final batch, hopefully one that you can all enjoy. This one is part of a series of short stories based on prompts given by Dnddentist . Remember to leave your comments below and to vote if you liked this story.

Rain pattered on the roof, gray clouds reigning on the sky above. Even though it was a couple of hours past noon, the day was dark as night. A string of blue flashed far away followed by the rumble of thunder. I closed my eyes, my heart pounding in my chest. Don't think of it, don't think of it. No matter how strong I screamed it in my mind, the memories flooded my mind. The black sky cracked with golden light. The screech of tires. The horns blaring. The lack of gravity followed by spikes of pain.

I shook my head, my teeth biting my lips until I tasted blood. The sudden pain banished away the memories but not the cold that seeped into my bones. I pulled my jacket closer to myself, darting my eyes away from the large window. A quick look around the room confirmed what I already knew, there were windows in two of the other three walls. Another lighting struck the ground, making my hands dig into the fabric of my jacket while my stomach twisted in knots.

Calm yourself, you're safe. That's what they had said at the hospital. It'll be alright, you'll make it through this. But I never had, not after a month and certainly not after a year. I sunk deeper into the sofa, holding my body tight.

Shivers ran down my spine with the next thunder, cold sweat forming in the back of my neck. the thick scent of fear reached my nose, acrid and pungent. Weak. Unlike dad and mom, so unlike any of my brothers. My fingers ventured to my mouth, touching where the small nubs of my tusks where growing up. A month had passed since my milk tusks had fallen during a spar and still the new ones hadn't shown up.

"Weak. So weak." the thumder rumbled, as I buried my face in my hand, hiding away the forming tears.

Firm footfalls came my way, the wood creaking under the weight. A warm bony hand grasped my shoulder in a gentle orc. The scent of earth and rain filled my nose, along that of age and leather.

"There's nothing to be afraid Kael. They can't get you here." my grandma whispered, her voice powerful and soothing.

I held back a whine and my body tensed when she pulled me into a hug. The warmth of her body seeped into mine, her gentle rubs on my back soothed the tension of my muscles and, eventually, forced the sobs out of me. Tears ran down my face, hot and heavy, while a soft hum came from her chest.

"There, there Kael, it's okay, it's okay. You will be okay." she sang in my ear, her voice flowing like water.

Pressed against her, my body trembling like a leaf in the wind, I let my heart pour out all of its feelings: Sharp fear, acidic rage, cold solitude, soft relief, mellow sadness. They all came out in a flood, leaving behind only a tired mind and a numb heart. My grandmother never pushed me away, her caresses never stopped. Even though she always asked me for help now, even though she complained about her back all the time, she didn't let me go.

My eyes burned when I pushed her back, my tears having long run dry. Rough skin caressed my cheeks, gently wiping away the crystaline trails. I kept my eyes on her lap the whole time, shame weighting on my shoulders. Weak, coward. The pumpkins on the fabric were wrinkled, and I dare not look what damage I could have done to the rest of her black dress. Her favorite, good job champ.I held back a growl but nothing could stop the seething disgust that raged in my heart. One bony finger lifted up my chin, forcing me to meet her yellow-green eyes-

"Now, now, why are you hiding those sweet onyx eyes from me? Are you afraid I'm going to steal them?" she said with a light tone, a small smile curving her lips.

"No, grandma, that's not. That0s not it."

"Then, is it the thunder?"

"Yeah, a bit, just, it's, it's hard." I said with a strained voice, fighting the urge to whine.

The old orc let out a soft hum, one green finger playing with the tip of a cracked tusk."I see. It must be really hard to get you wound up like that my little boar."

"I don't think so."

"Hmm? And why do you say that?"

Her eyes glinted like a wolf's as a brow rose in question. I gulped loudly, knowing I had said too much. The strength of her gaze forced the words out of me, coming out in a junble"Dad said I had to face my fears, like a true orc. True orcs don't cry, they don't crumble. They don't go running to their grandmas for comfort."

"And what would that man know?! True orc my tusks, hah! That man was quite the scaredy cat growing up."

"He was? But, but he's never afraid, he always stands up when someone challenges him." I couldn't believe my ears, but the certainty in her voice was clear.

"That's not true. When you had that accident and you were taken in for surgery,"her voice grew somber, her scent souring with the sour aroma of pain and regret, "he was afraid, so very afraid Kael. He though he would lose you and he cried like an *baby pig* when they told him you were alright."

"He did? But he never said--"

"Of course he woudln't, he's a proud orc," my grand,a interrupted me, her voice clad with the easy command of an elder,"he'd first eat his own tusks than admit it."

"That does sound more like Dad."

Her bony fingers softly caressed my cheeks, her voice full of love as she said, "but he would also willingly give them up for you and your brothers."

"But I'm not like Dad, he can cry, but he's not a coward." I grumbled, the painful truth stabbing at my heart.

"He wasn't always like that. I still remember how he used to hide behind my skirt, and all the trouble he would get from the other kids."

"Them...what changed? How did he become like this?"

Yellow-green eyes met mine, compassion shining in them. My throat closed up, my hands tightened into fist at my side.

"He grew up, fought a few things he loved more than he feared the world. Things like you my little boar." she said with a sad edge to her voice, a stale smell mixing with her scent. Nostalgia.

"You, you aren't making this up are you grandma?" I asked after a few seconds. I didn't want to question her but something inside me pushed me to ask. It needed to know. I needed to know if this was a truth I could hold on to.

"I wouldn't lie to you my little boar, never to you."she planted a kiss on my brow, her cracked tusks tickling my skin. "But if you don't believe me, we can bring out the old albums. The very old ones, you'll get your answer there."

"Thanks, grandma, really, thanks." I said, her words freeing me from the weight on my shoulders.

"That's more like it."She stood up slowly, her bones popping as she went. "Now, come on. The cocoa should have cooled off by now and I can't drink it all on my own."

"Do you have sweet bread and cheese?"

"Is there any other way of having hot cocoa?" She offered me a hand then, her tusks framing a gentle smile.


	27. Day 28 - Nature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Could you repeat your proposition again Prof. Edwards?" Deket said with a deep voice, his tired yellow eyes fixed on the man seated across the wooden desk.
> 
> "Well, of course, I know your kind is a bit slow." he said with squeaky voice, his face lighting up like a lamp. "As one of the premier researches for our renown University, I have taken it upon myself to expand the knowledge available to our colleagues and our students. It is a noble call and one I take to with glee and humility. On this occasion, I have proposed to the senior board engaging in a comparative examination of the sentient non-human species and how they fare in the Martinez-Roswell scale."
> 
> "And you require my...help in this endeavor? I'm familiar with literature Prof. Edwards, not biology." the orc gave the human a strained smile, a minor pounding forming at the edges of his brow. A condescending smile appeared on the human's face, pity dancing in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The third story for the last batch of orctober stories and the 28th over all, I can hardly believe I wrote this much this month. On this occasion we will see some of the challenges orc may face when selecting some jobs, especially at the hands of those with little experience handling orcs. I hope you can all enjoy it.
> 
> This one is part of a series of short stories based on prompts given by Dnddentist . Remember to leave your comments below and to vote if you liked this story.

Deket Ar'au had come to the university expecting many things: knowledge, research, debate, conflict, prejudice, disappointment. For nearly a decade as a professor of contemporary orcish literature he had gotten exactly that though, much to his regret, it was mostly conflict. He would have to argue for hours with the librarian to get access to his research materials and more than once he had been forced by the gray haired lady to buy the books out of his own pocket; his notes would often go missing and by now he had given up on keeping anything of worth in his office; his colleagues, if they could be called that, would whisper behind his back whenever they thought he was too far and grow deadly silent when he approached, wearing thin forced smiles; his requests for equipment would disappear, even when he checked on them three or four times before the date was due. And, as annoying as those things were, the orc had come prepared for much worse. The baton he always carried inside his jacket was proof enough of that. However, nothing had prepared the orc for the brazen human standing in front of him: Zachary Edwards.

Professor Edwards was a twig of a man, with spindly limbs that seemed more prone to breaking than to lifting anything. His pale ivory skin stood out against his dark brown woolen jacket and bright red shirt, giving him the appearance of a ceramic doll. Eyes of the same brown as his unruly hair looked up at Deket, certainty shining in them. Thin eyebrows furrowed slightly while a cold polite smile twisted his lips. Everything about the man left a sour taste in the orc's mouth, most of all, the piece of paper that rested on the desk between them.

Deket gave the offending letters another quick read, hoping that he had made a mistake. The bold black symbols quickly snuffed out that notion. The chair creaked painfully as Deket leaned back against it, his tall frame barely contained by the metal furniture, the largest one the university had. A strong huff left the green skinned man, one big hand combing back his curly brown hair.

"Could you repeat your proposition again Prof. Edwards?" Deket said with a deep voice, his tired yellow eyes fixed on the man seated across the wooden desk.

"Well, of course, I know your kind is a bit slow." he said with squeaky voice, his face lighting up like a lamp. "As one of the premier researches for our renown University, I have taken it upon myself to expand the knowledge available to our colleagues and our students. It is a noble call and one I take to with glee and humility. On this occasion, I have proposed to the senior board engaging in a comparative examination of the sentient non-human species and how they fare in the Martinez-Roswell scale."

"And you require my...help in this endeavor? I'm familiar with literature Prof. Edwards, not biology." the orc gave the human a strained smile, a minor pounding forming at the edges of his brow. A condescending smile appeared on the human's face, pity dancing in his eyes.

"My apologies, it seems I didn't explain myself well. We need to run some tests in non-humans, like you, to be able to do this research. A full examination first, measure all of you and see how it compares to other volunteers. Then we'll run some tests, nothing too complicated I assure you, the standard fare: blood tests, magical potential measurement, intelligence tests, a few physical tests, I'm sure you'll like those. Oh, and semen collection, we need to know just how fertile all of you are."

Deket's legs tensed under his desk, the urge to kick the human out of his office burning in his heart. But, as satisfying as that would be, it would probably ruin the only desk that could fit his frame. Instead, the orc released his frustration the only way he had left, through his scent. The acrid odor spread through the room like wildfire, twisting the edge of the orc's lips upwards. Unbeknownst to the human, the scent marked him as the annoyance he was to any with a decent sense of smell.

Only after his revenge had been set in course, did the orc's mind process a fact. With as much politeness as he could muster, Deket said "Excuse me, semen collection?"

"Ah, yes, my apologies. It means your spunk, you know, the white stuff that comes out when you jerk off. I think your kind calls it pig spit," the human said offhandedly as if he were talking about the weather. The tension in the orc's jaw went unnoticed by the pale man, "of course, if you could keep yourself from cumming for a week, we could run some extra tests on your production rates."

"What?"

"I know, I know, a boar like you will have a hard time keeping it in your pants. Orc nature, I understand," bony fingers patted the orc's slim arm, making his orcish blood burn like acid, "but a few days you keep from laying with swine and sows won't harm you any. It may even clear up your head, let you focus on your work."

Fire burned inside the orc, the human's aggravating words poking through his armor of cold indifference. The orc intertwined his fingers in front of his, his hands shaking with anger. A strong huff left his nose, gold eyes glaring at the human.

"Now, now, no need to be angry. It's only a week, think of all the progress a single week of abstinence will give all of us. Besides, if it works, maybe you could recommend it to some of your orc students, God knows they need all the help they can to pick up their notes."

A growl formed in the orc's throat, his tusks bared at the sorry excuse of a professor in front of him. Using his last vestiges of patience, Deket spitted out, "Get out, now."

"What? How rude, I haven't finished yet, don't they teach you ma--"

"GET OUT!" the orc bellowed, flipping his desk with a single swat of his large arms. The human jumped back, a squeak leaving his throat. Fear crossed the pale face, brown eyes growing wide. Red tinted the skin moments later, a huff leaving the human as he left, cursing the orc under his breath.

Deket made note of every curse the human used against him, revenge simmering in his mind. The orc easily lifted his deck back into position and his tusks framed a smile when he saw the offending paper resting on the floor. Green hands picked up pen and paper, his mind running with words.

"You'll pay Edwards, you will certainly pay." murmured the orc as the first step of his plan unfolded in front of him. The dean would love to hear of this, what with the new elections coming up next month.


	28. Day 29 - Ill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Death is coming for him," they would whisper with soft voices, sending shivers all over my skin where they touched me, "prepare yourself."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fourth entry of this batch and only two more to go. This one continues with the theme of Death that my mind seems to be fixated on lately and this time, two of my favorite characters are involved in it. This is a glimpse at a possible future, one where their lives were intertwined for a very long time, to the point that neither can remember how it felt to be without the other. I hope you all can forgive me for punishing these two so much.
> 
> Just like the other stories, this one is also part of a series of short stories based on prompts given by Dnddentist . Remember to leave your comments below and to vote if you liked this story.

For as long as I could remember, the spirits were always by my side, guiding my actions towards the best paths. They would always be there no matter where I went, whispering secrets into my ears. Sometimes, it would be simple trivia; others, complaints and troubles. But there was one thing they never got wrong: death. They could pinpoint it with a precision that always frightened me They could pinpoint it with a precision that would always frightened me. It didn't matter what died or was about to die, as long as it happened they would let me know. Maybe that was one of the reasons I thought of them as my friends. They never lied, never failed, and always looked out for me. Or that's what I had believed for so long. Now, as I held my beloved's cold hand, his pale green skin covered in sweat, I wasn't so sure.

For the last couple of days, there's been one thing that they have been telling me over and over again, their voices ranging from sorrowful to defeated to grim.

"Death is coming for him," they would whisper with soft voices, sending shivers all over my skin where they touched me, "prepare yourself."

And no matter how many times I heard it, the words always made my throat dry out and my stomach burn with worry. Then the tears would come, running hot down my snout, filled with sadness and anger. My muffled sobs were echoed by the spirits, their numbing touch spreading throughout my body. All the while, despair hung around my mind, waiting to draw me into its embrace, to let the full weight of the pain land on my shoulders. It made me want to scream, shout in denial, proclaim I would save him, that our love would be stronger than this disease. Yet, I knew the truth. It coiled around my soul like a snake, squeezing the hope of it. The strong scent of rot and disease told me enough of the losing war inside his body. The thread of our bond was growing more strained by the day, the glow of life fleeing from his eyes.

Every sharp breath, every tremble that coursed his body, every cough that left his lips sunk like sharp fangs around my neck, cold and merciless. They reminded me my place in the world, the curse I had carried even before my birth. The twisting pain threatened to crumble the strong front I was putting for the sake of our children. Their watery eyes filled with an all too familiar fear, sobs wracking their bodies. Even now, I could hear them from across the door, the late hour of the morning doing nothing to assuage their pain or that of their kids. Two days had gone by like that. The wails, the empty promises and white lies, the cursing and the praying. It all became the background noise before the numbness of my mind.

My eyes fell on his face, his usual goofy expression twisted by a frown and a tense jaw. His soft snores interrupted at times by grunts and gasps. His scent was no longer the one I had grown to love, sharp and crisp like the mountains, instead it was mellow, acrid and sour, like the medicines that barely keep him alive. Suddenly, the snores where replaced by wheezing short breaths, his hand tightening around mine like iron while the other clutched the sheets for dear life. Black eyes met mine, pleading and desperate, tears threatening to fall. It shattered my heart into tiny pieces, freezing my body. His pained moan sunk into my mind like a dagger, breaking me out of the paralysis.

I brought his trembling hand towards my muzzle, grasping it in my furry hands while a prayer to the spirits rose from my lips. I ignited the fire in my heart, the taste of dirt on my tongue a clear sign of the magic and their help. Without a moment to lose, I focused on the spirit's numbing touch, guiding their burning magic up through my arms and then into him. A soft golden glow appeared in his hand as the blessing began to spread through his body. His illness was not one to take things in stride though, its frigid and stony presence opposed the warmth of the blessing at every turn, devouring it with greed. No matter how far I advanced, how much of my beloved's body I healed, there was always more of it waiting for me, so much more.

Moving too slowly for my tastes, the golden glow soon covered his whole arm and advanced into his chest. There the disease fought me with tooth and nail, forming an iron wall of cold intent. My own breathing came in pants, my body growing number as the magic took its toll on my body. My hands started to shake, darkness cropping the edges of my vision. There wasn't much time left, the spirits shouting warnings as I got closer to the edge but with one last push of golden light, the disease was pacified, sated for the time being. My orc's breaths became longer, less frantic. The fear receding in his coal orbs until it became but a dim glow. The edges of his lips turning upwards into a tired smile. I did my best to return his smile but my muscles burned in protest against the movement; the drain of the blessing weighted heavily on me. I gave his hand a comforting squeeze as I murmured my thanks to the spirits, tears running freely down my muzzle. I placed a tender kiss on his hands, the skin almost ice cold despite resting between my furred hands. The realization stabbed my heart. I forced down the nausea that was threatening to sink in. One hand let go of his hand and traced a path to his neck, cupping my husband's face with tender care. Careful of my horns I leaned in and touched our noses gently, bringing a soft laugh out of his mouth. The sound brought bittersweet tears to my eyes and clogged my throat with emotion. My fingers caressed his soft and sweaty skin, sweet nothings leaving my lips in a strained voice.

It didn't take long before he fell asleep again, soft snores filling the room once more, his hand still grasping mine. My will crumbled down then, like a house before an earthquake. The sour taste of despair clung to my tongue, the burning of exhaustion of my muscles clashing with the numbness in my heart. My shoulders rocked with every sob, the soft bed mercifully muffling the sounds.

The grim words of a faith spirit were the last nail in the coffin, reaffirming what I refused to acknowledge.

"This is the last time."


	29. Day 30 - Embrace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second to last story for orctober and one I can relate to at times. This is very loosely based on many late nights conversations I have shared with too many friends lately. I hope it is to your liking. Full disclaimer: There will be mentions of homosexual sex and a kiss, but nothing will be shown in the story, even so, if this is not your thing or you're not above whatever the age it is in your country to read such thing, please close the window and look for something else. Remember to leave your comments below and to vote if you liked this story.

I buried my head in his hairy chest, his fiery musk seeping into my nose. The scent was soothing, it made me feel safe. Most of the time, that would be enough to draw me into dreamland but this is not the case today. The rumble of his snores, rivaling that of a motor, shook my body. Sweat covered my skin, courtesy of the heat of his body. Strong arms pulled me close to him, in a Strange and loving bear hug. But that was not the problem, it had never been. It was me, or to be more precise, the itch that scratched the back of my mind. I have to work, I can’t waste time

There was much to be done, ideas were already flooding my mind. New formulas, refined strategies, optimized algorithms. They shouted for me, called for me and kept me awake, even when my body was screaming for sleep.

I shifted in his hold, being careful with my tusks, and laid my head over his heart. His strong beating of his heart filled my ears, drowning my restless mind. A yawn forced its way out of my mouth, the darkness of our bedroom prepared to force me into sleep. An algorithm we created after many sleepless nights

I bit my teeth, the stab of pain clearing my mind of any thoughts for a few moments, enough for my next plan.

"One, two, thee, four, five," I whispered counting each beat of his heart, "six, seven eight, nine"  
On and on I went, reaching over 230 before another idea popped into my mind. The beatings are regular, they repeat in sets of forty. The first five are fast, the next ten trudge along, six beats will come next, followed by a loud snore. Nine more will pass before another snore silences them and the rest go on calm and slowly.

"Twenty, twenty one, " i whispered to myself, waiting for the snore to come. To prove my theory. But I was only met with silence. The arms around me grew tense, a groan coming from above. I didn't get much chance to shift in place before a click brings light into the room.

The brightness left me dazed, my eyes seeking the comfort of his broad chest. A rumbling chuckle reached my ears, accompanied by soft pats on my back.

"You never learn, do you? How many times have you fallen for the same trick?" his voice is deep and rough, fitting of his large size. His rough fingers trace figures on my back, making me shudder despite myself.

"Mmm mprhm mmhm" I mumbled into his chest, my hands pushing against his chest.

"I don't speak shy orc, love,come out now." he said playfully, his low rumble traveling trough his chest as his fingers bribed me out of my safe haven.

I stared up at him, the yellow light of the bedside lamp giving his gray skin a golden glow. Only one of his three alabaster horns can be seen, his dark brown eyes meeting my gaze from either side.  
I gave him a half-hearted glare while my words left my mouth, "I said, I lost count. I got caught up in my head. "

"Yes, you did and it's cute."

"I'm not cute," I mumbled, heat settling in my cheeks.

"But you are my summer dream, you are," he said, a wide pearly smile appearing on his face moments later.

I let my hands explore his chest, tracing random patterns on his hard skin as I thought over my next words.

"You're, you're more cute! You got those ears!" was my great reply, a slim green finger pointing towards them.

A guffaw rocked his body, his hands tensing behind me to keep me in place. Thin gray ears danced atop his head, as if to prove my point through a demonstration.

It took him over a minute to stop laughing and another to calm down, his strong hands soothing the aches of my back I didn't know of. I melted against him, his broad chest and soft gut making for a great bed.

"But that's not what's keeping you awake, is it love?" he said with a serious tone, his piercing gaze axing any attempt at misdirection.

"No, it isn't."

"Is it the nightmares then?"

I shook my head, the acrid aroma of worry tainting his scent.

"No, it's just. I can't-- I mean, I want but I can't, I shouldn't..." I stumbled, my overactive mind jumping from one thought to another.

My rhino just nodded, understanding flashing in his brown orbs. His words were soft as he said, "you need your sleep. You've been up for too long."

"I'm an orc, I can take it," I puffed out my chest, baring my tusks for show,

"Not when you're reaching your fourth all-nighter in a row."

His meaty finger pressed my nose in admonishment, forcing a whine out of me."But they need me, I almost got it solved this time."

"That's what you said yesterday and the day before. You need to rest love, you're not invincible.” His voice was firm but loving, worry dancing across his eyes.

"But what if I got the answer now, shouldn't I share it?"

"You can share it in the morning, with a clear and a rested body."

"You're right, I know you're right but - -"

"Your mind won't stop, I know, you told me the other day."

I looked down, feeling petty for putting such a fight when I knew he was right and I had asked him to do this for me. In the end I could only mumble. "Sorry.”

"That's why I'll give you a hand in stopping those pesky thoughts."

"How?" The answer came in warm rough lips that sent spark flying through my body. In the rough hands that shifted me until my body was trapped between the wall and his body. And in the overpowering scent of need that wafted from him, awakening the fire in my loins. I became putty in his hands, my body melding against his. It begged for his touch, his kisses, his sweet words. I embraced it all, my mind setting aside any thoughts but those of him.

Several minutes later, I fell asleep in his arm, my mind swimming with the pleasant buzz of love and the ache of a good fuck.


	30. Day 31 - Costume

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And what are you two supposed to be?” shouted the woman with a rough voice, her brows furrowing into a frown.
> 
> Daniel was quick to stride forward, assuming his most heroic pose. His voice was loud and firm, fit for a hero.“Quickdraw Dan and...”
> 
> “Designated driver.” I was added with a serious tone, stuffing my hands in my jacket’s pocket. 
> 
> “Oh come on Jose, I set it up for you.” I only shrugged in response, knowing better than to allow all of his antics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last story of Orctober and the longest of them all. I had a bit of trouble coming up with this one, perhaps in part because finishing meant that there would be no more orc heavy content for a while, and because the prompt this time didn't really resonate with me. Thanks to some friends in the writing group, I did manage to get some ideas stuck together and the story was born from there. 
> 
> Once again, I want to thank all of you who have read my orctober stories, I'm glad you showed your love for them and it excites me to know I could share some of my love for orcs with others out there. It's been really fun to do this challenge, extremely exhausting as well, so I don't think I'll be posting for a while. Still, thank you all and I hope you enjoy this last story I bring you. Happy orctober and happy halloween.

“Remind me again why did we come to this party?” I whispered to Daniel, pulling on his long arm. 

“Because it is the party and we have been locked up studying for weeks man, weeks!” he replied, his brown skin reflecting the yellow lights from the street. A beige vest hugged his torso, a tin star resting upon his breast. Under that rested a bright red shirt, the cuffs rolled over his elbows. Light brown pants covered his legs while tall boots, the color of earth, protected his feet. Fake iron spurs adorned the boots, jingling with each step. 

“The party we weren’t invited to,” I was quick to point out, stealing glances at the large house at the end of the road. Multicolored lights flashed through the windows, highlighting the dancing silhouettes of many party goers. 

“Now, don’t be like that. No one gets invited to these parties, you just show up and you’re in.” said Daniel, dark curls escaping from under his white wide-brimmed hat. 

“I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who does that.”

“Nah, bro, everyone does. Look, I got a contact on the inside, they’ll let us in. Don’t worry about it.” Daniel said with excitement on his tone and a spring to his step. 

I pulled my jacket closer to myself, the chill of the night seeping into my bones. I looked longingly at my parked old car before I said, “fine, but we’re staying together. You won’t pull the same trick that you did at Wendy’s.”

“I swear it on my badge.”

I gave him a deadpan look, crossing my arms in front of me. “It’s a fake badge.” 

“Details, details, now, let’s go! We’re free, we got to party!” I chuckled softly while my stocky friend pulled towards the house. 

The strong bass of the music dug into my skin as we approached the house, its classical wooden look transformed for the festivities. Even from the street I could see the bright pumpkin lanterns that hung from the windows and the fake spider webs that fell over its porch. Spooky black and orange lights were hung on over the columns, drowned by the light show from inside. The two of us came to a stop in front of a pair of bouncers: a large grizzly like man, whose biceps could have warped steel, and an equally big woman with a neon green Mohawk. The two bouncers traded a look, the edges of grizzly man’s lips turning slightly upwards. 

“And what are you two supposed to be?” shouted the woman with a rough voice, her brows furrowing into a frown.

Daniel was quick to stride forward, assuming his most heroic pose. His voice was loud and firm, fit for a hero.“Quickdraw Dan and...”

“Designated driver.” I was added with a serious tone, stuffing my hands in my jacket’s pocket. 

“Oh come on Jose, I set it up for you.” I only shrugged in response, knowing better than to allow all of his antics.

The grizzly man laughed, his hand striking his knees with enough force to make me flinch. The Mohawk woman only rolled her eyes, her fingers pinching her nose. 

“Okay, okay, enough of the two bit comedy. You know them Rock?” 

The grizzly man gave Daniel a mischievous grin, the wink that followed telling me all I needed to know. “I know the cowboy at least. He’s harmless. Your friend?”

“Yeah, my bro. He won’t do a thing, right?” Daniel said, giving me his puppy eyes. I bit my lips, the sour taste of defeat dancing on my tongue.

“I won’t do a thing. I swear on his computer.”

“Wait what? Why mine?” 

“You were the one that brought me here.”

The grizzly man roared with laughter, the woman joining in for a few moments. A quick pat down later and a firm recitation of rules and we were pushed inside. The loud bass made my body tremble with every beat, the DJ blasting songs without any rhyme or reason beyond having a good time. Hot bodies surrounded us, the scent of sweat and alcohol thick in the air. 

It was hard to keep an eye on Daniel with the shifting crowd, his cowboy costume mixed in perfectly with the rest of the party. Too perfectly, for barely an hour later, he had disappeared in the sea of flesh. I cursed under my breath, stumbling through the partying crowd. The air got hotter, sweat sticking through my body while worry gripped my heart. I could already see the crazy shenanigans Daniel was bound to get into: the drink challenges, the flirting, the smoking. And it would fall on me to take him back, as promised. A few elbows sunk into my stomach and a couple of accidents avoided later, I had made my way towards the stairs, the extra height a much welcome change. My hands gripped the wooden handle, wide eyes searching the crowd while the fresh air let me think more clearly. 

Even with the added height, the swirling mass of bodies didn’t make it easy to find my friend. The vibrant multicolored light were quick to leave me dazed while the every shifting crowd made it hard to keep track of anything. I shook my head, my hands gripping the wooden the handrail tighter as minutes passed without answer. 

“Did you lose anything bro?” said a husky voice behind me.

“Wha-- Fuck!” I shouted, jumping back and loosing my footing. My hands tightened around the wood, my body spinning around the handrail axis. 

Something yanked me back by my jacket, sending me crashing into a hard surface behind me. A soft grunt left my lips, strong arms keeping standing with an iron grip before the husky voice said, “there, there, no falling on my watch.”

“Sorry, you just, caught me by surprise.” 

My stomach twisted at the sight, my knees trembling under me while my mind quickly calculated how much pain I had been spared. It was a lot. The meaty hands gently turned me around, revealing a behemoth of a man behind me. A football player or a bodybuilder for sure, one of the biggest one I had ever seen. Dark blue eyes glinted with the ever changing lights, an easy smile resting under his broad nose. A pair of large tusks protruded from his bottom lips, a prosthetic of some sort for sure, well made too.

“It must be something mighty valuable if you didn’t even notice me. I’m not precisely a ninja myself,” the man said, one big hand gesturing at his hulking body. Even that simple move strained the leather jacket he wore, the garment leaving his dark green chest exposed. I swallowed hard, biting my lips to force myself to reply.

“Well, yes, it is important, though it is not an object.”

“A girlfriend then? Or maybe a boyfriend? Don’t tell me it’s your little brother?” his teasing tone held no malice in it, only curiosity. 

“What?! No, Daniel’s not my boyfriend, just, a friend, a good one. He asked me to take him home today.”

“Hmm...hard to take someone one if you don’t know where they are. So, how do they look?”

“You want to help?” I said with an incredulous tone and bit my lip when my mind fully processed the words.

“I don’t like watching worried little guys like you, gets me nervous,” the man said with an amicable tone, softly patting my arms before he let go. 

I gave him a single nod, my mind still stumbling to catch up with the man’s easy going attitude. I turned around, hands firmly holding to the wooden handle while my eyes scanned the crowd for a partying cowboy.

“Well, he wanted to be an outlaw or something, he’s dressed like one of those westerns.”

“Hat and all?” said the man when he leaned on the handrail next to me, the heat of his body seeping into me through his clothes.

“Yeah, he even got the spurs,” I replied, my eyes searching for any spots of white in the swirling crowd.

“And he doesn’t happen to be wearing a light brown vest and a silver hat?”

I turned back to look at my companion, the description made bells ring in my head. 

“Beige vest and white hat, why?”

“Because I think your friend is leaving with that cutie over there.”

He pointed his finger at the far end of the room, where a familiar cowboy led a woman in a tight black dress to one of the empty rooms.

“You gotta be kidding me!” I shouted, my hands tightening around the handrail while anger burned in my veins.

“Nope, that kiss is not a joke. Oh wow, she’s wild.” 

He didn’t have to point it out, it was hard not to see how the two lovers mouth’s clashing against each other with desperation, their feet stumbling into the first open door they found. 

“Fuck, I’m killing him when I see him again.” My fist hit the handrail, pain shooting up my hand like lighting.

“I take it this is not the first time--”

“No, it isn’t. Sixth one actually and I keep falling for it.” I admitted, my cheeks burning with shame. 

“That’s rough little buddy.” said the man, softly patting me in the back with a big hand.

“Yeah, fuck, I can’t even leave. I’d feel awful later.”

“Well, if he’s over there having his fun.” said the man, his tone light and mischievous, “how about you have some fun too?”

My heart leaped in joy at the proposition, only for it to be dashed by the rational part of me mind. “I can’t drink or smoke, designated driver and all that.”

“I promise you, you won’t be doing either.” he whispered next to my ear with his husky voice. His musky scent reached my nose, reminding me of warm bonfires I shared with my family. 

“...you’re not going to kill me, are you?”

His tusky grin disarmed me, his glowing blue eyes drawing me closer to him. “Nah, it would be such a shame to rob the world of a cutie like you.”

My cheeks heated up as butterflies flew in my stomach. I swallowed loudly, my sense of duty clashing against my desire for revenge and fun. 

“Well, if it’s only for a little while...then, it should be okay.”

“You won’t regret it,” he told me as his trunk like arm wrapped around my shoulders, pushing me against his chest. His body grew warmer and muskier with each step we took towards the first floor. The music dimming while shivers ran down my spine. His sharp tusks pressed against my ears, his hot breath brushing my sensitive skin. “Have you ever considered becoming an orc?”

**Author's Note:**

> If you reached this far, thank you for reading and remember to leave your thoughts in the comments.  
> Day 2: Morning can be found over here https://archiveofourown.org/works/18870091/chapters/65505838


End file.
